Harry Potter and the Hogwarts Connect
by whoturnedoutthelights
Summary: Harry Potter, who has spent four years riding around on trains now has to deal with magical education. AU, diverges 1987, same universe as "The Scarred Man and the A Stock", covers First Year, or will do, when it's done. With Genius!Hermione, Hipster!Dumbledore, Has-A-Brain!Ron, Snape!Snape and even more trains than last time. No pairings, because they're 11, you stupid Muggles.
1. Chapter 1: The Hogwarts Connect

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the Hogwarts Express. I do own the Hogwarts Connect, though!

Summary: This will cover Harry's First Year, and is set in the same universe as "The Scarred Man and the A Stock". Don't expect too much of this, because I don't have a history of completing things.

I am removing the bold around ex-canon lines, because it got in the way of most readers. I've left the letter bold, though, because it's the letter.

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><p>Harry Potter and the Hogwarts Connect<p>

by whoturnedoutthelights

Chapter 1: The Hogwarts Connect, or Owls that Don't Deliver

Harry stepped off the bus and walked down to King's Cross. He'd not been to the main concourse of King's Cross often, partly because he'd had no reason to (the people there were much more watchful), and partly because Finsbury Park was much more convenient. But this time, this time was different.

It was August 30th, 1991, and Harry Potter had come to King's Cross to do some research.

It had all started just over a month ago. Harry had been on the Victoria Line platforms at Stockwell, waiting for his next train, when it happened. As the train came roaring up the tunnel, Harry saw an owl fly over people's heads and over the track. A second later, the poor creature could feel the air currents, and took off at top speed up the tunnel, away from the arriving train. As it pulled in, he saw the driver's face, a mask of utter confusion. What was going on?

When he got off the train in Brixton, it was to find an owl on the southern end of the platform, looking absolutely exhausted, with a letter attached to its leg. What was going on? He took the letter from its leg - it was addressed to him!

No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He'd never had friends, no other relatives - he'd spent the last four years wandering around London, for crying out loud! Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

Mr. H. Potter

1973 Stock Train

Aldwych Tube Station

London

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. Harry slowly opened the letter, and read:

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY**

**Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE**

**(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)**

**Dear Mr. Potter,**

**We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.**

**Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Yours sincerely,**

**Minerva McGonagall,**

**Deputy Headmistress**

Harry smiled. He knew what this was now! It was clearly a clever ploy by Fletcher. Fletcher was a con artist, based in Leicester Square, with an uncanny ability to disappear when the police turned up. Every time Harry passed through Leicester Square, Fletcher would attempt to convince him to join him in his "deals", and would tell him magic was real - but Harry wasn't fooled. Wondering idly how Fletcher had managed to get hold of an owl, he hopped back on the train just before the doors closed.

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><p>Professor Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration Mistress, Head of Gryffindor House and Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was perplexed. Hogwarts owls ALWAYS delivered the acceptance letters. They had never failed once. Sure - people had not responded, that happened occasionally - but never had the owls failed to deliver. Yet when she attempted to send this letter, the moment she entered the owlery, all the owls - every single one - took off immediately straight up into the rafters, as if they were frightened of something! But what could they possibly be scared of? She glanced down at the letter, and stared. She re-read the address in shock. Then she took off down the stairs, three at a time, yelling at the top of her voice.<p>

"ALBUS!"

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><p>Professor Albus Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer of the German Institute of Sorcery, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Muggle-Wizarding Unification Ministry President (a branch of the ICW) and Headmaster of Hogwarts was groaning. He had his head in his hands. His Deputy Headmistress had just come into his office and chewed his head off, and now Emmeline Vance was making her monthly visit with information about the location and behaviour of Lord Voldemort. He wasn't really listening to that, though. Harry was still alive and well, but untraceable. You can't trace a wizard underground, because if you are unable to travel in a direct line towards your target the Point-Me spell is useless. He nodded to something Emmeline had just said, then tuned in for a moment.<p>

"... lost him for a few days, but the new triangulation..."

... wait... triangulation?

He stopped Emmeline.

"Do you know where Voldemort is right now?" he asked.

"Yes, but..."

"Excellent! Now gather the Order. Harry Potter is somewhere on the London Underground, and we have to find him."

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><p>Harry was settling down for the night. He'd picked one of his favourite spots, the bench at the far end of the southbound Northern City platform at Highbury and Islington, when he heard people coming down the platform, which was strange. Nobody came this far down the platform! He sat up and looked carefully, then pinched himself. It hurt - so he wasn't dreaming. But what other excuse was there for Fletcher, a con artist who never left Leicester Square, the Old Tube Map Scar Hipster he'd met two years ago on the East London Line (dressed in robes of lavender this time), and a grizzly haired man with a wooden leg and an eye-patch to be doing, together, in a station about to close?<p>

That was not the first time he'd pinched himself that night. He'd done it when Fletcher gave his first name (really, who names their kid Mundungus), when the grizzly man (one Alastor Moody) had removed his eye-patch to show an electric blue eye, whizzing around in its socket, completely out of sync with his other, normal eye, and twice when the Old Tube Map Scar Hipster (who turned out to be the Professor Albus Dumbledore of the letter) levitated him. Eventually, however, he came to the realisation that no, he was not dreaming, that yes, magic WAS real and he'd met quite a few wizards in the last four years, and Fletcher disappeared off to wipe the CCTV footage and "confound" the staff at the control centre. Harry drew the line at Professor Dumbledore taking him away to Diagon Alley, though.

"I'm used to doing things for myself, I go round London on my own all the time. How do you get to this Diagon Alley, Professor?" said Harry. Dumbledore looked at him extremely strangely, then explained where to find the Leaky Cauldron, a pub in Charing Cross Road.

"You will be able to see it, although muggles around you will not," he said. "Ask for a man named Rubeus Hagrid - he will be able to show you around the Alley and give you some helpful advice."

Harry thanked Professor Dumbledore, then sat back down on the bench. Dumbledore seemed to be on the verge of saying something else, but decided not to, and said goodnight. The two of them started heading back down the platform towards the exit, but Moody turned around about halfway down.

"Well, happy birthday, boy," he said. It was the first time he'd spoken that night (Dumbledore had introduced him). He had quite a gruff voice, but Harry didn't really care - he got the feeling Moody would speak his mind. Then they headed up the stairs at the end of the platform, leaving Harry to his thoughts.

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><p>Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, Senior Auror and Generally Grumpy And Paranoid Man, was impressed. When Dumbledore had convened part of the Order to track down a ten-year-old boy, he was initially derisive. However, it had taken them two days to pin down Harry Potter. Two days for a team of six to pin down a ten-year-old who knew no magic and didn't even know he was being tracked. He could make a fine Auror, given time and training. However, his old friend Albus Dumbledore looked worried.<p>

"What do you think of him, Albus?" asked Moody.

"This makes me deeply uneasy," admitted Dumbledore. "Is it possible he's going Dark?" Moody scoffed.

"The kid's been living on his own for several years now," said Moody. "He's survived this far through keeping his eyes open and practising constant vigilance. You can't expect him to trust you immediately, neither can you expect him not to have some measure of independence. Besides, he hasn't hurt anyone yet!"

Dumbledore just nodded. Moody disapparated, leaving the Headmaster to his thoughts for a moment, before he too turned on his heel and disappeared.

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><p>That morning (July 31st), Harry made his way down to Charing Cross Road (he'd been given a small breakfast by a stallholder in Finsbury Park, who he knew well), and to the Leaky Cauldron pub. There, he met Rubeus Hagrid, who was probably too tall to be allowed anywhere in non-magical London. Hagrid was tall and wild-haired, but his heart was in the right place, and Harry found he liked the giant grounds-keeper very much. And Hagrid had known his parents! That was only the start of a day absolutely strewn with surprises - one that particularly stood out was the discovery of a huge pile of gold, left to him by his parents.<p>

He'd also been given a snowy owl as a birthday present. Harry had been unable to stop stuttering his thanks. The owl in question, whom he had named Hedwig (a name he had found in his History of Magic textbook), was now sitting up in his room at the Leaky Cauldron, asleep - she preferred to hunt at night.

When he'd asked Hagrid about his parents, however, the story had been less than pleasant. In fact, it had been quite a horrible tale - though thankfully better than what the Dursleys had tried to feed him. Hagrid had reassured him that Voldemort was no longer a threat, and urged him not to say the name in the same breath. This worried Harry, but he didn't bring it up with Hagrid. The other thing that was puzzling was that nobody had yet spotted him - if what Hagrid had said was to be believed, he was the most famous child in the magical world! Harry figured it was probably his uncut hair, and resolved never to get it cut again. He didn't want any attention, thank you very much - it could only lead to bad things.

Hagrid had then booked him a room in the Leaky Cauldron, and paid for his meals. Harry had thanked him, and he'd spent the last month there. Diagon Alley was certainly an interesting place to explore, and he'd gone back to Gringotts on the second of August. They'd not been able to provide him with a bottomless pouch for his money, nor had he picked up any more interesting inheritances, but they'd let him have another ride on the carts, saying that "most wand-carriers look down upon the cart ride", and that his "enthusiasm for our craftsmanship" was very welcome.

Oh, and one last thing. Hagrid had left him with his train ticket to Hogwarts, and then disappeared before Harry could ask about Platform Nine and Three Quarters. If there was one thing that annoyed Harry during his time in London, it was missed connections. Which brings us up to date.

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><p>Harry walked onto the concourse at King's Cross. This was definitely not one of his favourite stations - a corrugated iron box for a concourse seemed a bit unloved. He made his way down platform 8 and turned off towards platforms 9 and 10. In his opinion, it was silly to send a magical train off from the commuter platforms, but perhaps there was some historical reason for that. He walked up to the ticket barrier and inspected it.<p>

Half an hour later, Harry Potter was utterly perplexed. How was he supposed to catch a train from a platform he couldn't even find? He headed down to a Travel Information booth.

"Excuse me, can you tell me where I might find Platform Nine and Three Quarters?" he asked in desperation. Even in his head, the words sounded silly.

"Nine and Three Quarters? Think you're -" the man stopped. Then, as if in a trance, he reached underneath the desk, pulled out a leaflet and handed it to Harry.

"Here is your complementary flyer on Magical Services from London King's Cross. Have a nice day, and remember to follow the Statute of Secrecy!"

Then the man shook his head, looked down at Harry, and said, "Yes?"

"Nothing, nothing," said Harry, and wandered off. He took a good look at the leaflet.

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><p>HOGWARTS EXPRESS<p>

This daily train service leaves London King's Cross, platform Nine and Three Quarters at 11:00, and takes just seven and a half hours to travel to Hogsmeade Station. Instituted in 1832 by then Minister of Magic Ottaline Gambol, the Hogwarts Express has made the journey to Hogsmeade 7 days a week, 365 days a year, every year since then. First Class Seating is available in Coach A, and Coach H is designated the Muggle Coach, where Muggle Electric Devices can be used without interference.

The Hogwarts Express is noted for being the official mode of transport for Hogwarts Students wishing to attend the school.

ORIENT FLYER

This weekly train service leaves London King's Cross, platform Seven and One Half at 15:00 every Thursday, and wends its way across Europe and Asia, calling in many countries, to arrive in Beijing, China four days later. It was instituted by Minister of Magic Eldritch Diggory in 1961, and offers a cheap and comfortable alternative for those wishing to travel to European or Asian destinations without the discomfort of an international Portkey. The Orient Flyer must be booked in advance - tickets cannot be bought on the day.

The Orient Flyer, our flagship service, is notable for being the first train service to run through the Channel Tunnel between Shakespeare Cliff to Marquise, Pas-de-Calais.

HOGWARTS CONNECT

Established just a year previously in 1990, one of ex-Minister of Magic Millicent Bagnold's last acts was to institute a stopping service. Ex-Minister Bagnold, from York, grew up seeing the Hogwarts Express thunder past her house every day, and has always campaigned for a "stopping service, to serve those wizards and witches who find it difficult to reach King's Cross for the 11:00 train".

The Hogwarts Connect leaves London King's Cross, platform Ten and One Quarter at 07:00, and calls at all Muggle stations to Inverness before running down the Hogwarts Branch Line into Hogsmeade Station.

PLATFORMS

All Magical Train Platforms can be accessed by a secure Floo Connection from the Ministry of Magic, or by simply walking through the relevant ticket barrier between the neighbouring Muggle Platforms. Please note that the Floo Connection is closed on September 1st, so as to prevent overcrowding in the Ministry.

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><p>Harry smiled at the leaflet. Now he knew how to catch his train. To make sure he understood, he tried walking through some of the ticket barriers round the station. The barrier between Platforms 1 and 2 was just a solid barrier (and was quite painful, thank you very much), but the one between Platforms 2 and 3 led to a train depot, the one between Platforms 4 and 5 led to a shiny new platform with what looked like a purple triple decker train branded "the Knight Train" and the barrier between Platforms 8 and 9 led to a spooky, abandoned platform with a train marked "Department of Mysteries Staff Train". He smiled, and headed back to the Leaky Cauldron. There was a particularly good spaghetti bolognese, courtesy of an Italian wood nymph who had nothing else to pay with, and he didn't want to miss that.<p>

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><p>Well, you asked for more London-Underground!Harry, and here you are! Reviews, please, would be nice.<p>

I know that conventionally, Harry Potter fanfiction writers tend to go through the Wizard Introduction and the Diagon Alley trip in excruciating detail, and if something changes, I'm OK with that. However, I find it extremely dull when somebody updates their story with a bunch of text copied straight from canon covering a trip I've seen so many times I probably know it off by heart. I can tell you now that my Diagon Alley trip is exactly the same as usual. Harry gets the same wand, has the same meeting with Draco Malfoy and the same discussions with Hagrid. He even gets the same ice-cream.

I also hope you liked my little nod to conventional Independent!Disillusioned!Super-Rich-Effectively-Pureblood!Harry stories. This is certainly an Independent!Harry story, but I'm trying to make it a little more realistic, so you won't find All-The-Answers!Goblins here. Nor will you find Pocket-Dimension!Trunks, Evil!Dumbledore, Parselmagic, Weasley-bashing (well, not permanently at least - can't you trust Canon!Harry's judgement?) or any of that sort of thing.

Quite frankly, you can't appreciate the letter handover properly unless you head down to the Northern City (now First Capital Connect) platforms at Highbury and Islington, or at Essex Road, or Old Street (this is at off-peak times) and go to the far end. The lighting is always flickering, the signs are from a bygone age, forgotten, there's barely a person on the platform and whenever a train is on its way in, it makes a clicking noise like a hungry Aragog. That's a description I might reuse!


	2. Chapter 2: Those Stupid Books!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the Hogwarts Express or any train that calls at King's Cross Station. Harry Potter and the HogEx both belong to J. K. Rowling, and the trains calling at King's Cross belong to various real people - most belong to East Coast, though. Neither do I own the Keys to the Kingdom series, or any quotes from it.

Any text in bold is property of J. K. Rowling, because she can write better than I can.

Summary: Harry Potter grows up on the London Underground. He learns to hide, to charm, and of course, never to miss the train!

Author's Note: How did Harry get an education when he was homeless from the age of seven? Mostly by osmosis. The human mind is a wonderful thing. I'd think he'd pick up simple maths pretty fast, what with the money issues he'd have. He'd already learned the basics of reading in school, and probably read quite a few newspapers over the four years. He's probably bumped into his fair share of city traders, school trips, interested tourists and the like, and he's charming, especially in comparison with most of the people you meet at peak time. Besides, most wizards seem to get along just fine.

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><p>Harry Potter and the Hogwarts Connect<p>

by whoturnedoutthelights

Chapter 2: Those Stupid Books, or Diesel Multiple Units

September 1st, 1991 dawned.

On this day, the Soviet Union continued to dissolve.

On this day, soon-to-be Chief Rabbi of the United Kingdom Jonathan Sacks prepared for his induction.

On this day, in a small room above a secret magical pub in Central London, around 3 minutes from Leicester Square tube station, a young wizard by the name of Harry James Potter was busy packing. He didn't want to miss his train after all.

Harry didn't have too much to pack. Most of his school robes and clothes were already in his trunk, lovingly folded. New clothes, after all, were a luxury he'd never had before. His books were in there as well (apart from Magical Draughts and Potions, which was somewhere - now where did I put it last night, he thought), and he'd somehow managed to get his cauldron to fit inside as well.

He wandered over to the window, and looked out over London. The city had been his home for four years, but in all that time there were still secrets to uncover - such as Magical London! But today was the day he was leaving. Today was the day he was starting a new life!

He picked up his telescope from where it sat by the window, and the book beside it (ah - there it was!), and put them into his trunk. He closed the lid, straightened up and attempted to lift the trunk.

Wow, it was heavy. There was nothing for it. He'd have to take a bus. But first, breakfast.

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><p>The clock struck half nine above St Pancras Chambers, George Gilbert Scott's impressive masterpiece on the Euston Road, which in 2002 would stand in for King's Cross Station in the second Harry Potter film. Harry Potter himself was not there though. Harry Potter was getting off the bus round the corner, beside St Pancras's unimpressive, boring sister King's Cross Station, dragging an extremely heavy trunk and a shiny new cage, containing one very disgruntled Hedwig. A number of frowning old ladies heading towards Holloway on the bus he'd just left began to grumble about "young children these days".<p>

Five minutes later, he'd found a luggage trolley, put his trunk and Hedwig on it and pushed it into the station, heading towards Platform Nine and Three Quarters. It was a clever idea, to hide the gateway to a magical intercity train between two commuter platforms. Commuters never bothered to look around themselves.

Harry came to a stop about ten feet from the barriers. They looked very solid, but this was something he'd tried several times on Friday, and he walked straight through the barrier, and came to a stop.

A scarlet steam engine stood on the platform, belching steam. Behind it were six 19th century carriages. The platform itself was empty. Harry wandered down to the last carriage, where he attempted to lift his trunk on board. After dropping it on his foot, several times, he managed to prop one end of it up against the doorway. Lifting the other end onto the train, however, was beyond him.

And so it was that twenty minutes later, Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World, first met Drs John and Ophelia Granger and their young daughter Hermione with his back to his trunk and the train and his owl on his lap, cursing the archaic tendencies of a Wizarding World reluctant to switch to Diesel Multiple Units.

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><p>Dr John Granger of Molesey Dental Practice, Surrey (there were worse places to set up shop - he could have been in Kent, or even in Dent!) was highly amused.<p>

He was also absolutely horrified, of course. Harry's story was certainly a horrifying one. Orphaned at one, abandoned by his remaining family at seven, homeless for four years - the list just went on! He could feel his wife's maternal instincts coming into play. But underneath all that, he was highly amused.

After all, this kid was eleven years old! Eleven years old, behaving four times his age, and the only other person in this world not enchanted by this new world of wizards and magic.

The dentist let a smile rise to his face, as Hermione levitated the trunk onto the train to the kid's (Harry's, he reminded himself) annoyance. At least not all wizards were crazy.

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><p>The clock struck eleven above St Pancras Chambers, and the huge red steam locomotive started to pull away from the platform. This was it, thought Harry, goodbye London, hello Hogwarts. He watched outside the window as the train pulled out of the platform and alongside the main line. Then he turned to speak to Hermione, who was next to him, but her head was buried in a large, leather-bound copy of Aletha Freeman's Depository of Healing Enchantments.<p>

Harry, who was used to urban solitude, did not press the issue.

Another ten minutes after that, as the train was passing through Hadley Common (probably as far north as Harry had ever been), the door opened to reveal a redheaded young boy. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.

"Can I sit here?" the boy asked. "Everywhere else is full." Harry nodded, and the boy dragged his trunk inside before sitting down. Hermione looked up from her book for a moment, looked the boy up and down, then buried her head in her book again.

They sat in silence for another minute, before the boy spoke up.

"Blimey, you're quiet," he said. "It's unnatural, sitting in here with you two just staring."

"Sorry," said Harry, and he meant it. "It's just that most Muggles don't really talk to each other on train journeys. It's a shame, really. Are you from a wizarding family?"

"Yes," said the boy. "Pretty much. I think Mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we don't talk about him really. I'm Ron Weasley."

"Harry Potter."

Ron laughed.

"No, you're not," he said. "Harry Potter's eight feet tall, with a pointy beard down to his waist!"

Hermione started laughing so hard, she dropped the book she was holding. Ron turned to glare at her, but she didn't really notice. Harry was in shock.

"Honestly, eight feet tall! No human being who's eleven years old can be eight feet tall, it's not possible. Let alone have a beard," she said, when she had calmed down. "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way. Do all wizards have no sense of proportion?"

Ron gaped. Before he could attempt to respond, though, Harry (who had just recovered from this stunning revelation) stepped in.

"Seeing as they can all fly on broomsticks, do you really expect them to? But seriously, eight feet tall?"

"Well, that's what it says in the books about you. Ginny - she's my sister - believes it completely." Hermione started laughing again. Ron seemed to decide she was crazy, and turned to Harry.

"But have you got the - you know - scar?" Harry lifted his (even longer) fringe. Ron stared.

"So that's where You-Know-Who..."

"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.

"Well - I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"Most people don't store long-term memories until about the age of three, so I'm surprised you recall that much," said Hermione. "But maybe it's different for wizards, nobody in my family's magic at all, so I wouldn't know. What's different about wizarding households?"

"Well, not much really. We've got a ghoul in the attic, and we can play Quidditch in the orchard, but that's about it. Dad really likes Muggles, thinks they're fascinating, so he's always bringing Muggle stuff home. But what's it like living with Muggles?"

Hermione was, for the first time in her life, stumped by the question. How do you describe normal life and normal people? Harry came to her rescue.

"Well, my aunt and uncle and cousin were horrible. I used to live with them until I was seven, but then they took Dudley - my cousin - to the London Dungeon, and we were on the Underground, and he tripped me up and I was abandoned on the train. I've been living on the trains ever since. Most of the people are quite nice - they'd give me free pasties or ice creams, or a hot bacon roll for breakfast, and -" he trailed off, looking at Ron, who was gaping once more.

"Wow," said Ron. "I mean - I thought we had it bad. Dad works at the Ministry, but they don't pay him very much, and there's seven of us at home. Bill and Charlie have already left and got jobs, Percy, Fred, George and me are going to Hogwarts and Ginny's still too young to go. I'm the youngest in the family, apart from Ginny, but she's a girl so it's different, so I never get anything new - I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand and Percy's old rat - but at least I've got a bedroom and Mum cooks me food. Do many Muggles not have places to live, then?"

Hermione looked scandalised.

"No! Almost all non-magical families have a home to go to, and children without a home live in orphanages or foster homes." Harry raised an eyebrow. "OK - I suppose you don't - wait, how were you not found by Social Services?"

"Social Services?" asked Ron.

"They're in charge of improving people's lives, supposedly. Not that they do, really. I'd heard bad things about orphanages, so I kept an eye open for them," said Harry.

"Right," said Ron. "So what do you do? How do you get food?"

Harry began to tell Ron all about his life wandering around London, culminating in the events of his birthday. Hermione sat back on her seat, but Harry could tell she was listening too.

"and so I was on the train towards Whitechapel when I meet this old man in a bright yellow cloak, with a tube map on his left knee, and we talk for a while. Turns out he was Professor Dumbledore! It's going to be really hard to think of him as a teacher." Harry's story was then stopped by two incredulous questions from Ron and Hermione.

"Dumbledore uses Muggle trains?" This came from Ron, who looked more shocked than he had so far.

"Professor Dumbledore, Supreme Muggle-Wizarding Unification Ministry President wears bright yellow cloaks?" Hermione looked about as shocked as Ron, and that's pretty shocked, just so you know.

Harry looked at the two of them, then burst out laughing once more. Both Ron and Hermione looked indignant for a moment, but joined him in laughing.

They continued in this vein, with the three of them swapping stories for a while. Harry told them about his other encounters with wizards, and about all the strange people he'd met at the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione told a few stories of difficult patients at the dentistry practice. Ron was just finishing a particularly gripping tale about the time when he'd almost hit a hang-glider on Charlie's old broom when the door opened, and a boy with a pale, pointed face and platinum blonde hair, slicked back, whom Harry had met a month earlier in Diagon Alley stepped in. He was not alone, either - on either side of him was a thickset, mean, ugly looking bodyguard. Well, boys, actually, but they were probably bodyguards too.

"Have any of you seen -" the boy tailed off when he realised who was in the compartment.

"Have any of us seen what?" asked Ron.

"I was going to ask, have you seen Harry Potter, but he obviously wouldn't be hanging around with you. Red hair? Hand-me-downs? You must be a Weasley," said the boy. "Have you seen him?"

"Have I seen whom?" asked Hermione.

"Have you seen Harry Potter?" said the boy.

"No, don't think so," said Hermione. "What does he look like?"

"As I thought, you haven't seen him. Harry Potter is eight feet tall, with a pointy beard down to his waist. And never speak to me again, you filthy little Mudblood," said the boy. Ron looked outraged, and was about to speak up, but never got a chance to, as Harry looked up at the boy for the first time in the journey, his eyes dancing with mirth, and said,

"Those stupid books! I'm eleven years old. Do all wizards have no sense of proportion?"

The three of them burst into laughter again. The pale boy looked completely confused. One of the bodyguards started to join in, but the pale boy hit him. Collecting himself after a moment or two, the pale boy delivered one final "insult".

"You're obviously not Harry Potter. Harry Potter would have proper wizarding graces, unlike you," he said, and walked out of the compartment, followed by the two bodyguards. Hermione, if possible, laughed even harder.

"Proper wizarding graces? Honestly, who speaks like that these days?" she said, and the three of them resumed their conversation.

* * *

><p>Well, I was originally going to give you the entire train journey. It's getting longer than I thought, though, and it's difficult to get through the required topics of discussion (there are surprisingly many - that's why Rowling gave it its own chapter). It's not really something I can, or indeed want to skip.<p>

So, Ron and Hermione! I've always thought Ron was given short shrift by fanon. Sure, he's got certain disgusting habits, but we only know about these because he's Harry's best friend, and these are the sorts of things only you know about your best friend. The films really did not help in this aspect, in fact, they made it ten times worse, so we start to miss out on Harry's best friend, and instead we get "Dumb Ginger Kid". I've also upped Hermione's intelligence by a little bit, which will become clearer the further along we get, assuming we get that far. I had several directions for this first meeting between the three of them to possibly go in my head, but this is the one that came out. And it sounds a bit conceited, but I like it. Hermione doesn't get to laugh enough in fanfiction, and that's really quite sad.

Guest review reply: Draco Malfoy is not being psychic. He's just showing a bit of deductive skills, and the deduction will be explained in the next chapter. Don't worry, he's not going to become a genius, that role goes to Hermione - but it's my personal belief that almost nobody is born unintelligent, and one that will come across throughout the series. And anyway, Hermione's still in Muggle clothes, because she'd been chatting to Harry and Ron right from the start.

I have changed the names of Hermione's parents from the usual fanfiction convention. Really, Dan and Emma? You might as well go the whole hog and call them Daniel Radcliffe and Emma Watson, it's obvious that's what you're trying to say.

I won't be writing any Dangerverse characters. That was a cameo appearance that I felt like putting in.


	3. Chapter 3: Give me those, now!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything in the Harry Potter series. These things belong to J. K. Rowling, who is not me.

I am removing the bold around ex-canon lines, because it was annoying.

Summary: Harry Potter spends four years homeless on the trains and buses and streets of London. This is an AU, so there are small things which might turn out to be different - hey, that's just Chaos Theory working its magic. He learns to hide, to charm, and never to miss his train.

Author's Note: Any reviews containing criticism or questions will be addressed both at the end of the last chapter, and the start of the next one.

Guest review reply: Draco Malfoy is not being psychic. He's just showing a bit of deductive skills, and the deduction will be explained later in this chapter. Don't worry, he's not going to become a genius, that role goes to Hermione - but it's my personal belief that almost nobody is born unintelligent, and one that will come across throughout the series. And anyway, Hermione's still in Muggle clothes, because she'd been chatting to Harry and Ron right from the start.

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><p>Harry Potter and the Hogwarts Connect<p>

by whoturnedoutthelights

Chapter 3: Give me those, now!, or The Secret Spell of Hengist of Woodcroft

At 13:30 in Doncaster Station, several Muggles were hit by a gust of hot air which came from nowhere. This assumption was false, it was, of course, the Hogwarts Express flying through Platform Three and Five Eighths, a magical structure invisible to Muggle eyes.

Concurrent to this mysterious occurrence, Harry, Ron and Hermione's latest conversation (about Quidditch - well, Ron was enthusing over it, Harry was listening and Hermione had her head buried in Aletha Freeman's Depository again) was interrupted by a far more welcome visitor - namely the trolley lady.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?" she asked. Ron made a non-committal noise, which Hermione frowned at, before she got up to get something. Harry, who had seen as much of train food as he could take, declined - expecting it to be the usual selection of weak coffee, even weaker tea and overpriced Mars Bars. Hermione did not come back with these, though. She came back to the seat with what looked like a piece of wood, which she began to chew on. Intrigued, and partly regretting his decision, Harry got up, went out into the corridor and caught the trolley lady before she moved on.

As he had hoped, the trolley did not have tiny packets of Walkers Crisps. What it did have were Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Liquorice Wands (which were what Hermione had bought), Droobles Best Blowing Gum and Fizzing Whizzbees. Not wanting to miss out, he got some of everything, and paid the trolley lady with a gold Galleon.

Coming back into the compartment, he tipped the sweets onto an empty seat. Ron looked hungrily at it. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"How are you going to eat all of that?" she asked.

"It's not all for me, Hermione, you two have whatever you want," said Harry, picking up two pasties and throwing one to Ron, who caught it looking dazed. Opening the packet, he took a bite into it. "Aah, it's cold! Who eats cold pasties?"

"I thwwmph there's a shpull for that," said Ron, who didn't seem to care if his pasties were cold or not. Hermione put down her liquorice wand and picked up The Standard Book Of Spells, Grade 1 and flicked through it. In a few moments, she put the book down.

"All there seems to be in here is a Fire-Making Charm - Incendio," she said, then reached into her bag and pulled out her wand, flicking it upwards. "Incen-"

"NO!" Harry almost shouted this. Both Ron and Hermione looked at him.

"Sorry," he said hastily. "It's probably not a good idea to set a wooden train on fire. I'll just eat it cold, but thanks, Hermione."

Hermione looked at him strangely, but put her wand back into her bag, then picked up the liquorice one. Ron went back to his pasty, and finished it pretty quickly, before reaching towards the pile to pick up a Cauldron Cake. Harry finished his pasty, then reached towards a packet of Chocolate Frogs and inspected it.

**"**What are these?" Harry asked Ron, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "They're not really frogs, are they?"

"No," said Ron. "But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."

"What?"

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know - Chocolate Frogs have cards, inside them, you know, to collect - famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy." Ron picked up a packet, opened it, bit the head off the frog then picked out the card.

"Merlin - I've got about seven of him," he said. "Do you want him?" Harry took the card with Merlin on it, then opened his own Frog to see a familiar face.

"Dumbledore has a Chocolate Frog card?" asked Harry.

"Course he does," said Ron dismissively. "Greatest wizard in the modern world, he is." Harry tilted his head.

"Really?" he asked sceptically. Ron, who had his mouth full of frog, did not answer. Harry turned over the card and read:

**ALBUS DUMBLEDORE**

**CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS**

**Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.**

Harry turned the card back over and saw, to his astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared.

"He's gone!"

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. Harry put the Dumbledore card down on the seat next to Ron, who had picked up a packet of Fudge Flies from the pile.

Hermione picked up the Fizzing Whizzbees, and looked critically at them.

"Do you know these have Billywig Stings inside them?" she asked Ron. Ron's mouth was empty, which was lucky, as whatever would have been in there would have been spat out. "It's in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them," she continued.

"I am never eating those again," said Ron. He looked down at the Fudge Flies in his hands.

"I think I'll give these to Scabbers, I don't think I can eat anything for the moment," he said. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat grey rat, which was asleep. Hermione moved slightly away from them.

"This is Scabbers, and he's useless - he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff- I mean, I got Scabbers instead." He looked down at the rat on his lap, and left the Fudge Flies next to it.

"If you want an owl, you can borrow Hedwig," said Harry, suddenly uncomfortable. "There's nothing wrong with not being able to afford an owl, I certainly couldn't until a month ago."

Ron looked up at Hedwig, who glared down at him. He then turned back to Harry.

"You know, if you were homeless for the last four years, how come you could buy all that stuff on the trolley, and how come you've got an owl?" he asked, a slight edge of hostility to his tone. Whatever Ron expected as a response, it was not for Harry to relax and smile at him.

"Oh, that's what's wrong? All this stuff," he gestured to the sweets, Hedwig and his trunk, "was bought with Wizard money! I didn't know I was a wizard until I turned eleven, and Hagrid showed me my parents' vault. Besides, Muggles use different money - not your huge solid gold Galleons, they use smaller coins and banknotes," he said.

"Really, Muggles have their own money? Weird! I wonder what it looks like," said Ron, and just like that, the tense atmosphere was broken. Hermione looked over at them.

"Seeing as you've finally sorted through your problems," she said, "here, you can have a look at this." She put her hand inside her bag and pulled out a twenty-pence piece.

"Weird! What a shape! This is money?" asked Ron, looking at it with fascination. After a few minutes (during which Harry continued to chip away at the ever-decreasing pile of Chocolate Frogs), Hermione took it back.

"Sorry," she said.

"Never mind," said Ron. "It's not like I'd get a chance to use it."

Harry was now examining a pack of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

"You want to be careful with those," Ron warned Harry. "When they say every flavour, they mean every flavour - you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a bogie-flavored one once."

Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner.

"Bleaaargh - see? Sprouts."

They had a good time eating the Every Flavour Beans. Harry got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny grey one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper. Hermione picked up her own packet of beans, and started trying them. Some, she ate - sausage, fish, cranberry and lobster, and others (farm dirt, tripe and phlegm) she merely nibbled off the corner and put them with the rest of the rubbish. Certain others she just put back inside the packet.

"Why'd you do that for?" asked Ron.

"Not sure about you, but I don't want to eat phlegm flavoured beans! Why do they make them anyway?" said Hermione. Ron shrugged at her, then picked up his own packet and took out the first one, only to be stopped from eating it by Hermione.

"Ron, don't eat that, that's glue!" she admonished him. Ron, disbelieving, ate it anyway, then choked.

"How did you know that?" he said. "Bloody hell Harry, she knows everything! How is it she knows everything?"

Hermione smiled, and continued to spot the unpleasant beans, and the packet of unwanted beans grew more and more full. Just as the packet had completely filled up, the compartment door opened for the third time, and a young, round-faced boy came in. He looked tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

"I'm afraid we haven't," said Hermione kindly. The boy wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"Do you want me to help look?" said Hermione. The boy nodded, still tearful, and the two of them left the compartment.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap.

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look..."

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end. "Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway, here goes:

**_"Sunshine, daisies, Butter mellow,_**

**_Turn this stupid fat rat yellow!"_**

Ron waved his wand and there was a loud bang. Scabbers screeched, the Fudge Flies fell off Ron's lap and somewhere under the seat there was a loud croak. A toad hopped out and then went over to the Fudge Flies, which he started to eat.

"Oi! Those are Scabbers's Fudge Flies!" Ron picked up the toad.

"Hey, isn't that that boy's toad?" asked Harry. Without waiting for an answer, he got up, opened the compartment door and yelled, "HEY, HERMIONE! WE FOUND THE TOAD!"

Ron looked glumly down at Scabbers, who had - predictably - gone back to sleep. Then he looked over to the seat next to him, where the photograph of Dumbledore was laughing.

"Even Dumbledore's laughing at me," said Ron. "George gave me the spell, bet he knew it was a dud."

Harry looked down at Dumbledore, but Dumbledore wasn't laughing anymore. Instead, he had pulled out a quill and was writing.

"Ron, look! Dumbledore's writing something!" exclaimed Harry, and Ron looked over. Dumbledore finishing writing with a flourish, and held up the piece of parchment, which read 'Colovaria'. "Do you think it's a spell?"

"Who knows?" asked Ron. He picked up his wand, pointed it at Scabbers, twirled it around and said, "Colovaria!" Scabbers turned a particularly bright shade of red. At that moment, Hermione and the boy entered the compartment. "Trevor!" the boy exclaimed gratefully, and picked up the toad from Harry's hands. "Thanks -"

"Harry," said Harry. The boy looked at him carefully for a moment before replying.

"I'm Neville Longbottom," said the boy. "Not Harry Potter, surely?"

"Yep, that's me," Harry replied.

"I thought you were meant to be eight feet tall," said Neville. "Are the books wrong, then?" Harry sighed despairingly.

"Ron, are people going to be asking me this all journey?"

"Afraid so - well everyone from wizarding families, at least. Not Muggle-borns - they won't have read the books. But practically every wizarding family has a copy - you saw how that blond boy reacted."

"So you really are Harry Potter, then?" asked Neville. "What about the scar, is that real?"

"Yes, that bit's true."

"Should I let people know about this?"

"No, don't bother," said Harry. "Apart from the trolley lady and you, the only other person who's come in here is some blond ponce, who insulted all of us."

"You mean Malfoy?" asked Neville.

"Who?" This came from Harry, who vaguely recognised the name from one of his textbooks.

"Must be Lucius Malfoy's son," said Ron. "I've heard of his family, they were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side."

"My gran agrees," said Neville. "Malfoy Junior is just the same, treating everyone as though they were beneath him."

"He did the same here," said Ron darkly. "He called Hermione a Mudblood. I didn't want to bring it up earlier - we were laughing and eating, but it's a really foul name for someone who is Muggle-born - you know, non-magic parents. Some wizards - like the Malfoys - think they're better than everyone else because they're what people call pure-blood - that's having. The rest of us know it doesn't make any difference at all."

"How did he know, though?" asked Hermione, frowning. "That my parents were Muggles, I mean. I didn't mention that at all. Unless we look different - do we look different?"

"No, you can't tell by looking. In fact, you can't tell by anything apart from records," replied Ron. "You don't want to look like him anyway. I'm not actually sure how, though it was probably because you 'admitted' to him you didn't know what Harry Potter looked like."

"Really?" asked Hermione. "There must be other wizards or witches who grew up with Muggles?"

"Apart from Muggle-borns, no, it's never happened before," said Ron. "There was quite a bit of debate when Dumbledore announced he'd placed you with Muggles, according to Dad - loads of people objected to it. Course, when they all turned out to be Death Eaters, that calmed things down a bit, but it hadn't been done before, and it's never been done since."

"Dumbledore placed me with the Dursleys?" asked Harry. "Who put him in charge?"

"He's Chief Warlock," said Ron, "so he's got a lot of power."

"Dumbledore's crazy," said Harry bluntly. "I suppose I could have grown up like Malfoy - but Dumbledore's crazy."

All four of them left it at that.

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><p>Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville continued to swap stories and share out the remainder of the sweets. Hermione was quite horrified when Neville recounted an incident where he'd been pushed off Blackpool Pier, and Neville had been intrigued to hear of Harry's, let's say unique, last few years. Perhaps the most amusing incident had been when Hermione had asked Ron exactly what spell he'd used to turn Scabbers red. Ron had gone pink, lowered his head and muttered that he'd found it on a Chocolate Frog Card, his eyes straying over to where Dumbledore had propped the piece of parchment against the frame of the photograph. Hermione did not miss this. She picked up the Dumbledore card, and read the spell on it. Then she turned to Harry, who had a rather large pile of Chocolate Frog Cards next to him.<p>

"Give me those," she said, a manic gleam in her eyes, "now."

Harry had never handed anything over so quickly. Ron laughed at this - until Hermione discovered that Hengist of Woodcroft was hiding a Lip-Sealing Jinx up his arm, after which he didn't make any noise at all.

They only had one other visit during the journey - a visit from Ron's brothers Fred and George, who had come to see how he was doing.

"So hello, little brother," said one of them.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" asked the other. Ron attempted to unseal his lips, but was unsuccessful. Fred and George grew identical, wicked grins.

"Looks like Ickle Ronnikins has been jinxed already. Aah," said the second one.

"Indeed, the attitude of young children these days, dear brother. And what is your name, fair maiden?" asked the first one. Hermione glared at them. Harry spoke up, though.

"So you must be Ron's brothers Fred and George, then? That's Neville Longbottom, the angry one over there is Hermione Granger and I'm Harry Potter."

"Nice try, little firstie - but you don't look like him at all. You'll need more preparation to prank us!" Harry looked helplessly over at the other three. Ron made a rude hand gesture, which was completely ignored. Hermione sat with her hands stubbornly on her lap. Neville attempted to explain.

"Actually, the books are all wrong," he said. Fred and George looked down at him. Neville looked up at them. Harry looked desperately at Hermione, who after a few seconds, relented and unsealed Ron's lips.

"Bloody hell, Hermione! Yeah, don't listen to what those books say," said Ron. Fred and George looked at him, then over at Harry.

"So if you are Harry Potter -"

"Yes, and that's a big if -"

"Do you have the scar?"

"Well, why should I show you? Perhaps you should find out at the sorting with everyone else," said Harry cheekily. "Look, just take a box of Bertie Botts, and go."

Fred and George took the box he was offering them warily. George took out his wand and waved it over the sweets, but nothing happened. He handed it to Fred, who looked at it suspiciously, before doing the same. When he had finished, they shrugged and walked off with it.

"Bye, Ron!"

"Bye, possibly Harry Potter!"

Ron crossed the room, peered out into the corridor then sat down. He was smiling.

"I don't think anyone's ever pranked Fred and George," he said. "What was in there, Hermione?"

"Seven earthworms, five grasses, two rotten eggs, four soaps, three farm dirts and a dirty sock. You shouldn't have done that, Harry!"

"Yes he should," chortled Ron. "That was bloody brilliant!" Neville looked perplexed.

"How do you know what was in there?"

"Hermione can tell what the Bertie Botts flavours are going to be. I don't know how, but she can, and she took out all the nasty ones out and put them in that box. It's scary how she does it - she's probably going to be a Ravenclaw."

"What's Ravenclaw?" asked Harry.

"It's one of the four school houses. When we get to Hogwarts, they're going to sort us into one of four houses - Ravenclaw's for clever people. Hufflepuff's supposed to be for loyal, hard working people, Gryffindor's for the brave and courageous and Slytherin's for evil people."

"Ron!"

"Well it is! There wasn't a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't from Slytherin! You-Know-Who was in there."

"Slytherin's a house for cunning and ambition, I can't see He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named being anywhere else," said Hermione. "They can't all be evil, Ron, or they'd be expelled!"

"OK, maybe they aren't all evil little gits, but people like Malfoy tend to end up there," Ron replied. "I bet you anything he'll be in Slytherin."

"So what house do you all want to be in?" asked Hermione. "Gryffindor does sound the best, although Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad."

"Gryffindor," said Ron without hesitation. "My whole family have been there. I don't know what they'd say if I'm not. I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad, but imagine if I end up in Slytherin."

"That's awful!" said Hermione. "You shouldn't have to live up to your family's expectations - although I can see you being in Gryffindor. What about you, Neville?"

"My gran expects me to be in Gryffindor, but I'll probably end up in Hufflepuff," said Neville. "I'm just not brave enough to be in Gryffindor."

"Nonsense," said Harry. "You stood up for me when Fred and George came in!"

"But standing up for people is a Hufflepuff trait," said Neville.

"It's a Gryffindor trait too," said Harry. "Anyway, Hufflepuff won't be that bad. I'll probably end up in Slytherin, if it's really the house of sneaky people."

"Nah, Fred and George didn't end up there, so you won't. Besides, you defeated You-Know-Who!" exclaimed Ron.

"I was just a baby when that happened, though," replied Harry.

"Fair enough. I guess if you don't want to be in Slytherin but you end up there anyway, we can't blame you," said Ron.

Harry looked out of the window to see Inverness Castle and that the East Coast Main Line had disappeared. "I think we'll be arriving soon, I guess we'd better change," he indicated to Ron and Hermione. Hermione took her robes from her trunk and left the room to change in the bathroom at the end of the train, while Ron and Harry changed in the compartment. Harry's guess was pretty accurate, and not five minutes after they'd changed, an announcement echoed through the train.

**"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."**

Sure enough, the train pulled into what appeared to be Hogsmeade Station, and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville fought their way out. Harry looked left and right along the platform for a sign about where to go, and sure enough, at one end of the platform, there was Hagrid.

"Firs' years! Firs' years!" he shouted, and the four of them made their way over to him. "All right there, Harry? C'mon, follow me - any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much.

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!" The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione took a boat to themselves. "Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then - FORWARD!" And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles. They then clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here?" asked Hagrid. He then raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

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><p>Deleted Scene - just for you!<p>

So I cut these lines from the chapter. It comes when Neville turns up for his toad - in the original chapter, Neville goes away to look for Trevor himself, but pretty much immediately I realised that Hermione goes off and helps him. Of course she does, that's how she meets Harry and Ron in canon! That therefore had to be preserved, which meant this had to be cut.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

"I'm afraid we haven't," said Hermione kindly. The boy wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"Well, hope you find him," said Harry. "Here, have a packet of Droobles!" He handed the packet to Neville, who took it and left the compartment.

Just outside, Neville looked down at the packet of Droobles Best Blowing Gum. A tear came to his eye.

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><p>And some more deleted lines:<p>

"That's three earthworms in a row!"

"Gred, I do believe we have been pranked."

"Indeed we have, Forge. This means revenge."

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><p>Anyone who has used the rail system in the UK knows that the food you can buy in the stations is pretty much limited to soft drinks, coffee, tea, pasties and confectionery. Suffice to say that Harry has had quite a few pasties in his time, and is quite the connoisseur. Hermione would buy the liquorice wand because her parents are dentists and it's a safe option. I've always imagined liquorice wands to be made of liquorice wood, as opposed to the Liquorice Allsorts variety.<p>

Actually cross-referencing with Philosopher's Stone reveals that Ron does a lot of staring and Hermione does a lot of frowning.

Yes, Neville turns up to pick up Trevor, and decides to hang around without any explanation. Yes, Neville has already met Draco Malfoy, probably earlier on the trip. Yes, Hermione is that observant in canon - just read about her in HBP Potions.

As for why Harry's OK with Dumbledore leaving him with the Dursleys - he sees Dumbledore as a crazy old man, not an all-powerful wizard or an evil manipulative chessmaster because he first encountered Dumbledore on a crowded tube train, not through his considerable reputation. Crazy old men should not be given power, because they tend to make mistakes.

Reviews, please!


	4. Chapter 4: The Sorting Ceremony

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, because that belongs to J. K. Rowling. I do own the Hogwarts Connect, because that belongs to me. I do not own any characters or places you recognise from anywhere that isn't the last three chapters. And fat lot of financial good anything you do recognise as mine will do me.

Any text in bold is property of J. K. Rowling, or maybe property of Steve Kloves if I like the line, and I use text from them because quite frankly they can write better than I can and those parts of the story remain unchanged. In fact, much of this chapter is ceremony, official speeches, and introductions that would remain the same, so much of it does remain the same.

Summary: Harry Potter has just spent the last four years of his life on the London Underground. He learns to hide, to charm, and never to miss his train. I don't know why I'm writing a summary here, you should already have read the last three chapters. If you haven't, go back and read them. This is an AU, although Canon!Harry displays many of London Underground!Harry's traits. In the books, apart from flying, the train is the only means of wizarding transport that he likes. In the movies, he actually admits to enjoying riding around on trains. Actually, I seem to have a pretty substantial case for passing this off as a Canon-ish!Harry (much more than Dramione, that's for sure), but I won't bother, because I want it to diverge.

Whirlwind00's review reply: I don't know either. Trust me, I surprise myself every time a scene comes out. It seems to write itself.

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><p>Harry Potter and the Hogwarts Connect<p>

by whoturnedoutthelights

Chapter 4: The Sorting Ceremony, or Hogwarts 65 Varieties

It is a little known fact, due to the impressive ability of all human beings, wizarding or not, to ignore what is right in front of them, that before each Sorting at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry there are three absent teachers, instead of as widely believed, two.

One of these is the groundskeeper. His or her job is to take the first years from the station down the path to the lake, and then across the lake in little boats. He or she does this to maintain tradition, which is another way of saying "for no reason at all".

The second of these is the Deputy Head. His or her job is to take the first years from the groundskeeper at the point where the grounds meet the school, and stuff them in a little room for a period of five minutes. He or she then returns to collect them and bring them to be Sorted. This is to make sure they are apprehensive, so their minds can be more easily read by the Sorting Hat.

The third of these is the Music Master. His or her job is to write the music for the Sorting Hat's song, and bring it to the Hat. The Hat then fits the words to the music. He is also in charge of the Toad Choir, though that is a more recent development.

These three individuals, along with the Headmaster (or Headmistress) are the four core individuals behind the school teaching staff, and it is said that when all four individuals work in harmony with each other, then the School will flourish. Very few know about this millennium old tradition.

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore is one of these very few people. His team of four: himself, Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Groundskeeper Rubeus Hagrid and Music Master Filius Flitwick. After three wizarding wars, these are the only three people he truly trusts, although there are others who he can rely on.

The other Hogwarts teachers do not understand this. Pomona Sprout is Head of Hufflepuff, so she does not mind. Sybil Trelawney, the Divination Professor likes to pretend that she does. Poppy Pomfrey, the school healer does not care for internal politics. Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin, ex-Death Eater and ex-Spy resents this.

Other people across the Wizarding World treat this small, elite circle as one of the many oddities of Albus Dumbledore. I am telling you this so that you might understand better. This knowledge may never come in useful. But then again, it might.

Now, on with the story.

* * *

><p>The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.<p>

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide to reveal an entrance hall so large that half of King's Cross Station could have fit inside - certainly it could have contained a couple of houses. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors. They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right - the rest of the school must already be here - but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. Immediately, all the children burst into quiet, worried conversation. Harry swallowed, and turned to Ron.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" he asked.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

A test? thought Harry. In front of the whole school? That couldn't be right, he didn't know any magic yet. Well, he knew one spell, "Colovaria". He dug his hand into his pocket but came across nothing. He looked around himself at everyone else, bitterly wishing he'd looked at the other Chocolate Frog cards. He looked over to Hermione on his other side, who had, but she was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need. Harry tried to catch something she was saying, but she was speaking too fast. He thought desperately back to what he'd been told about the houses, and about bravery, loyalty and ambition. He looked over to Draco Malfoy, who was muttering to a pug-faced girl standing beside him. Evidently he hadn't been told either, thought Harry. He then turned to look at Neville, who was clutching Trevor so tightly that the toad's eyes were bulging out of their sockets. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead him to his doom.

Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air - several people behind him screamed. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance -"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost - I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years. Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Harry stepped into line behind Neville and Hermione, and Ron followed him. They walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

As Professor McGonagall led Harry and the other first years up the aisle, many of them (Harry included) gazed in wonder at their surroundings - mainly at the candles floating above them, and the starry ceiling. Hermione whispered, "Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

When Professor McGonagall reached the front, she placed a four legged stool on the ground. A tiny little wizard emerged from a side chamber, bringing a pointed wizard's hat about half his size and placed it reverently on the stool. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. The wizard then scuttled off to his seat. Noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, Harry stared at it too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth - and the hat began to sing:

**"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,**

**But don't judge on what you see,**

**I'll eat myself if you can find**

**A smarter hat than me.**

**You can keep your bowlers black,**

**Your top hats sleek and tall,**

**For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat**

**And I can cap them all.**

**There's nothing hidden in your head**

**The Sorting Hat can't see,**

**So try me on and I will tell you**

**Where you ought to be.**

**You might belong in Gryffindor,**

**Where dwell the brave at heart,**

**Their daring, nerve, and chivalry,**

**Set Gryffindors apart;**

**You might belong in Hufflepuff,**

**Where they are just and loyal,**

**Those patient Hufflepuffs are true,**

**And unafraid of toil;**

**Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,**

**If you've a ready mind,**

**Where those of wit and learning,**

**Will always find their kind;**

**Or perhaps in Slytherin**

**You'll make your real friends,**

**Those cunning folk use any means**

**To achieve their ends.**

**So put me on! Don't be afraid!**

**And don't get in a flap!**

**You're in safe hands (though I have none)**

**For I'm a Thinking Cap!"**

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Harry felt relieved. Trying on the hat was a lot better than doing a spell! It would have been a lot better, though, if he'd been able to try it on when nobody was watching. Now that he was actually there, any bravery, intelligence or sneakiness he'd had in the last few hours had just disappeared and had been replaced with a churning inside him.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. Harry felt for the poor girl - being first in the alphabet was always horrible. A moments pause -

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. The table second from the right applauded. Harry looked over at them. Many of them had an aristocratic air of indifference on their faces. Those who didn't tended to be big, hulking and stupid-looking. Harry looked away as "Corner, Michael" became a Ravenclaw.

The list continued.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Finnigan, Seamus!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Goldstein, Anthony!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Goyle, Gregory!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione ran straight to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly onto her head. It sat there for quite a while, and Harry wondered what was taking it so long. Then he thought about Hermione's intellect, and groaned. The hat had probably been overloaded, he thought - and just as he'd come to that conclusion...

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Yep, the hat had definitely been overloaded.

"Greengrass, Daphne!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Or maybe not. Daphne Greengrass definitely looked like the other Slytherins - indifferent.

The list went on, and Harry was starting to regret feeling sorry for Hannah Abbott. The waiting was surely worse than being first in line, he thought, glaring at Hannah, who didn't notice at all.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

Neville almost tripped over on his way to the stool. The hat took an extremely long time with Neville, but eventually decided on:

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Neville ran off still wearing the hat, and had to jog back to hand it to "MacDougal, Morag" (a Ravenclaw).

"Macmillan, Ernie!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Malfoy, Draco!"

Draco Malfoy swaggered over to the stool - the hat barely touched him when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Ron thought this was a foregone conclusion. Harry, looking at the other Slytherins, was not so sure - until he considered the other three houses.

"Moon, Lily!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Nott, Theodore!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Parkinson, Pansy!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Patil, Padma!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Patil, Parvati!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Perks, Sally-Anne!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Just goes to show, you can't judge by appearance alone - thought Harry as Sally-Anne Perks, a meek-looking bespectacled girl walked purposefully over to the Slytherin table.

"Potter, Harry!"

Harry stepped forward towards the hat, his legs feeling like lead, and every step he took was accompanied by murmurs from the crowd behind him. Occasionally one of the voices would do more than murmur, and he could hear exactly what they were thinking behind him.

'Potter, did she say?'

'That's not Harry Potter!'

'Does he have the scar?'

As Harry turned round and the hat dropped onto his head, he caught a glimpse of the faces of the whole hall. Most of them looked disbelieving, though some looked accepting. One or two looked hostile - but that was all he caught before the hat dropped onto his head and all he saw was darkness.

"Hmm," said a voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage here. There's talent, yes, and a thirst to prove yourself... but where to put you?"

"So do you take suggestions? Or are you just going to offer me all the houses, then pick one at random? Because you haven't offered me Hufflepuff yet."

"Of course I take suggestions! So, Hufflepuff, then? Are you sure?"

"No!"

"Well, if you'd like me to pick, Slytherin has some empty space, and with your attitude so far..."

"Not Slytherin! Do I look like a Slytherin?"

"Look, do you want me to take suggestions or not? Merlin, I've had enough of these first years with attitude! First Miss Granger has to ask me about all the interesting people I've spoken to for the last thousand years, and then has the gall to tell me not to put her into Ravenclaw. Then Mr. Longbottom doesn't want to go to Hufflepuff, but doesn't really want to go to Gryffindor either. I had to choose for him and he fought me all the way! Now you. I'm going to put you into Gryffindor, because that's where you belong, you pig-headed, stubborn little boy!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

There was silence inside the hat. More murmuring filtered through from the outside. Then, Harry spoke again.

"Are you always like this?"

"No. I picked this up from you."

"Well, that's your problem, isn't it."

"Should I expect the same from Mr. Weasley as well?"

"Just put him into Gryffindor with the rest of us, and it should be no trouble."

"That's what they all say, but I'm the one who has to sort through their heads."

"Well, don't let him put you on then!"

"I can't do that!"

"Yes you can!"

"It breaks tradition!"

"Who cares about tradition?"

This was the wrong thing to say, or in this case think.

"GO TO GRYFFINDOR RIGHT NOW, AND STAY THERE! AND DON'T EVER COME NEAR ME AGAIN MR. POTTER, YOU HEAR ME?"

These last words were shouted out across the hall, and for the first time since Harry's name was called out, there was silence across the room. After a few seconds, Harry lifted the hat off his head and placed it on the stool. Then he straightened up and walked shakily over to the Gryffindor table, where only Fred and George Weasley were clapping. He took a seat across from Neville and Hermione; the latter looked at him disapprovingly, but remained silent. He looked up at the High Table. Hagrid gave him the thumbs up, but he was the only one - most teachers looked surprised, and a wizard with greasy black hair, a hooked nose and sallow skin was looking at him with utter loathing. Dumbledore, however, smiled at him slightly, and Harry felt slightly better.

Nobody who was in the room at that moment ever doubted that he was Harry Potter again.

Professor McGonagall composed herself, and called out,

"Roper, Sophie!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The list went on, past "Thomas, Dean", who turned out to be a Gryffindor, "Turpin, Lisa", a Ravenclaw, and then there were only two students left.

"Weasley, Ronald!" called out Professor McGonagall. Ron stepped out to take his place on the stool, but the Hat spoke out before Professor McGonagall could even move it.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Professor McGonagall looked down at it in puzzlement. The Hat looked up at her. Ron looked at the Hat, then up at Professor McGonagall, then he walked off to the Gryffindor table, who belatedly started applauding, Harry and the Weasleys foremost among them. Finally, when "Zabini, Blaise" was sorted into Slytherin, the tiny little wizard stepped out again, picked up the Hat and walked it away.

Harry looked down at his empty gold plate. He had only just realized how hungry he was. The pumpkin pasties seemed ages ago. Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

Harry clapped and cheered along with most of the rest of the school. Hermione frowned at Dumbledore.

"See, I told you he was crazy," said Harry. This had no effect besides redirecting her frown to him - but the frown soon disappeared when the four tables started to overflow with food. Ron immediately started eating, as if he hadn't just eaten several packets of Chocolate Frogs, a few Pumpkin Pasties and a couple of boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavoured Beans. Neville took some food too. Hermione, however, was not to be distracted for long.

"Why was the Sorting Hat mad at you?" she asked.

"Hey, it wasn't just me! It was pretty mad at you too!" Hermione looked nonplussed. Harry explained.

"The Sorting Hat didn't like my attitude, and he wasn't too fond of yours either. Apparently you asked him about all the interesting people he'd ever seen over the last thousand years, and then asked him not to put you in Gryffindor." Hermione went pink at this. "You weren't the only one - he was pretty mad at Neville, too. He asked me whether he should expect the same from Ron."

Hermione looked over at Ron, then back to Harry, comprehension dawning on her face. "So _that's _why he was sorted so quickly!" Now that she'd cleared the weight off her mind, Hermione found she was hungry, and tucked in. Harry had a look around himself at piles of roast beef, steak, roast chicken, lamb chops, Yorkshire puddings and many other things. Not wanting to miss out, he took a bit of it all, except for a bowl of peppermint humbugs, which he left alone.

Down the table, Neville was talking with Seamus and Dean, the other two Gryffindor first year boys about their respective families.

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

"Hello," said a voice from behind him. Harry dropped his lamb chop and turned around to see the ghost in the ruff smiling at him.

"Hello," said Harry. "Who are you?"

"Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, Resident Ghost of Gryffindor Tower, at your service."

"I know you!" shouted Ron. "You're Nearly Headless Nick - I've heard of you!"

"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy -" the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.

"Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So - new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable - he's the Slytherin ghost."

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy who, Harry was pleased to see, didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.

"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

About three quarters of an hour after the food had appeared, it disappeared and was instantly replaced by the desserts - apple pies, jelly (A/N that's Jell-O for you denizens of the USA), trifle, rice pudding, treacle tarts and the ice-cream.

The ice-cream.

There is a gripping story behind the 65 varieties of ice-cream served at Hogwarts, but it is not this one.

Harry helped himself to some treacle tart and a few scoops of a mysterious purple-ish ice-cream. It tasted better than any ice-cream he'd had before. Ron, of course, took a lot of everything. Hermione was not too interested in dessert, and was talking about lessons to anyone who would listen (this was the grand total of Percy Weasley and everyone in Ravenclaw within hearing range - the Ravenclaw table was just behind them). Harry looked up at the High Table. Professor Quirrell, a pale young man that Harry had met in the Leaky Cauldron pub on Charing Cross Road, was now sporting an enormous purple turban. Perhaps he had bought it in Diagon Alley, thought Harry sleepily. His eyes moved off Professor Quirrell over to the greasy-haired wizard next to him.

It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes - and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead.

"Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head.

"What is it?" asked Percy.

"N-nothing."

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked Percy.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to - everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Harry wasn't sure what the Dark Arts were, but they sounded bad, so he left it at that. Then he checked himself - he was starting to think like a wizard! A moment later, he relaxed - they had a class to defend against them, so they had to be bad. Snape did not look at him again.

When the desserts were finally finished (although Harry felt he could probably have more treacle tart), Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you."

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did.

"He's not serious?" he muttered to Percy.

"Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere - the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed. Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!" And the school bellowed:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot.

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years got to their feet and followed Percy out of the Great Hall. They climbed the marble staircase, walked down corridors lined with portraits and dragged their feet up even more stairs. They jumped trick stairs, walked through doors that appeared to be solid wall and ducked underneath tapestries. They broke most of the Health and Safety rules in Muggle Britain. Finally, as they stepped onto a corridor that actually looked normal, they had to fight their way past Peeves, the school poltergeist, before climbing through a portrait hole - not stepping, climbing - after giving a password (Caput Draconis). Then they climbed even more stairs to find their beds - four-posters with red, velvet curtains - and their trunks, which had been brought up for them.

Harry was silently thankful, as he pulled on pyjamas, that the trunks had been brought up. That was the last thing he thought before he fell asleep.

* * *

><p>On his first night in Hogwarts, Dean Thomas slept well. Hogwarts at night is quite a quiet place, despite all its quirks and oddities - certainly much more so than in Redbridge, with traffic on the North Circular roaring overhead at all hours. His night was almost free of dreams, with just one short fragment about Stuart Slater, a West Ham midfielder, waving a paintbrush.<p>

* * *

><p>On his first night in Hogwarts, Seamus Finnigan slept deeply. Hogwarts contained no arguing parents, and the journey from Ireland to Hogwarts is always taxing for those who are unable to Apparate. His night was completely free of dreams.<p>

* * *

><p>On his first night in Hogwarts, Neville Longbottom slept badly. No child with his self-confidence issues would sleep well on their first night in Hogwarts, and Neville was no exception. Wondering whether classes would be a total disaster, and perhaps slightly overawed by the confidently short Harry Potter he'd met, he tossed about fitfully, with nightmares of the Sorting Hat's proclamations going wrong. Trevor attempted to break for freedom, but was stopped by the closed door of the dormitory.<p>

* * *

><p>On his first night in Hogwarts, Ron Weasley slept loudly. His self-confidence issues had been almost solved - the quietly confident Harry Potter had caused him to forget his money issues, he'd successfully cast his first spell and made good friends. His dreams were mainly filled with chess knights and bishops dining on strange and mysterious dishes in the Great Hall.<p>

* * *

><p>On his first night in Hogwarts, Harry Potter slept quietly. That was not to say that he did not dream. In fact, he did, and it was particularly vivid and strange.<p>

Harry dreamed that he was Snape, sitting at the High Table to the right of Professor McGonagall and surveying the Great Hall down his long, hooked nose, watching Harry's Sorting. In his dream, he could hear the Sorting Hat arguing with him, and it was telling him to switch to Slytherin. Then the dream changed. He was Hermione, sitting under the Hat, and it was chastising him, or her as it was, for asking questions. Then the dream changed.

Harry dreamed he was Uncle Vernon, a person he hadn't thought of in a while, and he was being Sorted under Professor Quirrell's turban, and berating the watching eyes of the School for being freaks. And then the dream changed for the final time.

He was sitting in a crib, his hands glowing a harsh green colour. A man in a hood and black robes was collapsing in front of him, and around him the house was burning. Then the burning house transformed into a metal tube, with wooden escalators - the inside of King's Cross St Pancras tube station. A scream echoed around him, but it was not the scream of a burning commuter.

It was the scream of a woman.

Harry woke up with a jolt and looked around him - he was momentarily disorientated by the red velvet curtains, but fell back to sleep within a minute.

When he woke next day, he didn't remember the dream at all.

* * *

><p>This chapter was quite full of canon dialogue, because the Sorting Ceremony is a ceremony, and as such I cannot really change it and account for my changes. And trust me, almost every change has a reason behind it. Anyway, Harry hasn't changed that much! I promise that the next chapter will have new dialogue at least, and probably some new people. That said, I hope you liked the start and end of it.<p>

I've always felt that fanfiction writers, tainted with foreknowledge of almost everything (from blood purity to Deathly Hallows to prophecies) tend to downplay exactly what a magical place Hogwarts is, and I shall try not to do this. Please, by all means let me know if I am.

There is indeed a story behind the 65 varieties of ice-cream, and it is more than just accident, I assure you.

Right, now I have to write a Snape who's actually got some justification for believing Harry is arrogant and unteachable. Harry had better read his books! IF YOU'RE READING THIS DURING YOUR FIRST WEEK AT HOGWARTS THROUGH SOME MIRACULOUS TIME TRAVEL, HARRY POTTER, YOU'D BETTER REVISE FOR POTIONS!

Reviews would be more than Welcome, they would be Wilkommen.


	5. Chapter 5: The Potions Disaster

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the Hogwarts Express, these belong to J. K. Rowling. I do own the Hogwarts Connect, because that belongs to me. I do not own anything else in this chapter, except most of the dialogue.

Again, I am removing the bold from most ex-canon lines, because it distracted from the story.

Summary: Harry Potter grows up on the London Underground. Yes, it's this story, the one with all the trains in it - to my knowledge, this is the only one of its kind. If you need a reminder of what else to expect, read the first four chapters. The Scarred Man and the A Stock is also suggested. That said, if you don't read it, you'll probably be fine.

Author's Note: 19 alerts! That's really exciting. I've never had an alert before writing this. And somebody has put The Scarred Man and the A Stock on alert, which is odd because it's a completed one-shot. The sentiment is appreciated!

In terms of reviews, I've got 12, which just goes to show that normal fanfiction is better than crossovers (I got 7 in the space of three years). And I haven't had a flame yet, which is good because Harry doesn't much like fire.

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><p>Harry Potter and the Hogwarts Connect<p>

by whoturnedoutthelights

Chapter 5: The Potions Disaster, or Secrets of the Greenhouses

"There, look!"

"Over there!"

"Where?"

"With the glasses!"

"Next to the bushy-haired girl and the ginger kid."

"Did you see him at the Sorting?"

"Did you see his scar?"

This is only a fraction of the things that Harry heard people say on his first day. As he made his way down to breakfast, other students (mostly Ravenclaws) peered around corners at him, and the only thing that seemed to send them away was Hermione's not-yet-infamous glare. Hermione said she didn't want to use it too often, though, because then everyone would get used to it.

"My sister uses the Bat-Bogey Hex often enough on us, and we haven't got used to it," said Ron. Hermione turned to look at him with interest.

"What's the Bat-Bogey Hex?" asked Harry, also turning to look at Ron. Ron winced.

"It makes giant flapping bogeys come out of your nose, and it's bloody painful," he said.

"Language, Ron! What's the incantation?" she asked, with the same interest marked across her face. Ron winced again.

"Chiroptera Mucosa, but I don't know the wand movement. Mum never taught us any hexes, said it was too dangerous," he said. Hermione looked confused for a moment, then comprehension dawned across her face.

"Ron, what was the Chocolate Frog Card you say you didn't have?"

"Agrippa. It's really annoying, because Ginny's had one forever, and she found another one last year but she won't trade it for anything..." Ron stopped. "You don't think..."

"I'm afraid so," said Hermione. Two Ravenclaws were whispering ahead and glancing over at Harry. Hermione glared at them, and they scarpered.

"Hermione, those had to be fourth years! You're scary, do you know that?"

* * *

><p>At breakfast, Harry, Ron, Hermione and the other first years were brought their timetables by Professor McGonagall, and were soon off to their first class, Herbology, which was held in the school greenhouses by a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout. There are seven greenhouses at Hogwarts - for pure convenience, not because seven is the most powerful magical number. Greenhouse Seven is used by seventh years doing NEWT coursework. Greenhouse Six is usually empty, but in the summer of 1991 was briefly home to a rather large tray full of Devil's Snare. Greenhouses Four and Five are the property of Professors Snape and Sprout respectively. Greenhouse Three is one of the student greenhouses, and houses all the more dangerous plants that students study.<p>

Greenhouse Two is an interesting case. Prior to 1953, Hogwarts Greenhouse Two was in regular use by second to fifth years, but due to an accident involving asphodel, undiluted Bubotuber Pus, a pint of mulled mead and Karl Broadmoor, later to become star beater for the Falmouth Falcons, the greenhouse has been filled with a murky yellowish-brown smoke ever since. The smoke has not yet been cleared, and the only people who have been in since (with Bubble-Head Charms and Impervius Charms applied) are people serving detentions - their job is to attempt to clear the smoke, and after thirty-eight years, not much has gone.

Greenhouse One, of course, is the other student greenhouse, containing the magically harmless/non-magical plants, and it is where our protagonists were headed on that lovely, sunny morning.

"Welcome to Herbology, first years!" said Professor Sprout. "Herbology, as you may know, is the study of the interaction between magic and plants. Primarily, of course, we study magical plants, but we also cover non-magical plants that are used in potions and rituals. Can anyone tell me any non-magical plants used in potions?"

Several hands shot up around the room. Professor Sprout started calling them out, and Harry's first lesson began. It was surprisingly interesting, though probably quite painful, thought Harry as Hermione scribbled down notes at breakneck speed beside him and Ron put his quill down while Professor Sprout explained about the magical properties of nettles. He hadn't seen much of plants since he'd left the Dursleys, but he remembered nettles well. Too well, he thought, as he rubbed the back of his hand absent-mindedly.

Surprisingly, when they got down to drying the nettles it was Neville who was best at the drying spell. Hermione, of course, came in a close second. Harry got the spell just after Ron, but this was by no means bad - the prize for worst had to go to Seamus Finnigan, who had overpowered the spell. His nettles were smoking slightly, and Professor Sprout removed them with a pair of thick gloves. Harry looked worriedly at them, but Professor Sprout dumped them into a tub of water.

"Drying spells aren't supposed to do that, are they?" asked Hermione.

"They probably do if you overpower them," said Ron. "Mum likes to use that spell - she says it's very good for lightly toasting bread." Hermione, Harry was amused to see, wrote this down as well.

Professor Sprout came round the class at the end and graded everyone's nettles, then she dismissed them.

"If your nettles are graded E or O, you may take them to use in potions," she said. Harry picked up a few of his own gingerly. They did not sting, so he took some more, and put them inside a pouch inside his bag (which he had bought at the Apothecary). Ron took his entire pile, then asked Neville for some of the ones he'd left.

For a first lesson in magic, reflected Harry, that hadn't been too bad. At least, not for him, he corrected himself, as Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil strode past the three of them, the latter rubbing her hand.

* * *

><p>After Herbology, there was a quick break before History of Magic, which was on the first floor. Of course, Hogwarts being the improbable maze that it was, you had to go up to the fourth floor up a rickety side staircase, through a door pretending to be solid wall and down the Slide of Sorcerous Stone. Luckily, Percy Weasley had been passing through the Entrance Hall, and had told Ron where to go - or they would probably have taken several wrong turns and been very late. As it was, they took a wrong turning on the third floor, and Professor Quirrell had had to set them straight.<p>

The textbook (A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot) had been pretty difficult to plough through, but Harry had managed it - he had even named his owl, Hedwig after one of the Norwegian Grand Sorceresses who had helped implement the Statute of Secrecy. Harry had hoped that the teacher would shed some light on the book.

About three seconds into the lesson, Harry realised that there was no hope of that.

Another three minutes into the lesson, Harry was beginning to doubt that he would pass the class. More importantly, he was beginning to doubt his ability to stay awake for the whole lesson.

Five minutes in, Harry realised he wouldn't be able to stay awake for the entire lesson.

Seven minutes in, Ron gave up trying to concentrate, and slumped forward.

Eleven minutes in, Harry's brain finally gave up, and he knew no more.

Fifteen minutes in, Professor Binns read the same sentence twice. Hermione, who had no trouble listening to him, did a double take. Professor Binns droned on.

Around twenty five minutes into the lesson, even Hermione was starting to be affected by the monotonous tones coming out of the ghostly figure, but continued to note down the vital information about the Bloody Battle of 1296 between Uric the Oddball and Gotrod the Malevolent.

Twenty minutes from the end, Harry awoke from his semi-slumber and was able to note down a bit of important information about the heroic actions of Modestus Peverell. Then, noticing that Hermione was the only human being awake in the classroom, he copied down whatever looked important from what she had written - this was, of course, the highlighted bits. Hermione noticed this, but was too busy trying to concentrate, so let it slide.

Fifteen minutes from the end, Harry dropped back into oblivion.

Four minutes from the end, Ron awoke with his stomach rumbling, and noted down a few things from the conclusion of the lecture.

When the bell rang at the end of the lesson, everyone apart from Hermione, Ron and Lily Moon (who was, like Ron, awake by pure coincidence) woke up and they all walked out of the classroom and slid down the Slide of Sorcerous Stone to lunch. Hermione lectured Ron and Harry about going to sleep in lessons.

"It's incredibly disrespectful! And how are you supposed to pass if you don't stay awake?"

"Hermione, we tried!"

"It's impossible!"

"Ronald, it's perfectly doable. You just have to concentrate."

And they argued about whether or not it was possible to stay awake in Professor Binns' class for most of lunch. Harry struck up a conversation with Neville about various ways to not be stung by nettles, which was probably the best way to avoid the argument brewing beside him until they were off to Transfiguration.

* * *

><p>Transfiguration was the first class to involve serious magical theory, and it was a double, at that. Unlike Professor Sprout, who didn't bother doing roll call because she knew their names already, or Professor Binns, who didn't know anyone's names or didn't bother, Professor McGonagall took roll call briskly before giving them a stern warning.<p>

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle.

It was very, very hard work. They waved their wands over the matches, but nothing happened. Nothing at all - until around halfway through the lesson, when Hermione succeeded - which surprised Professor McGonagall.

"Very few succeed so early on, Miss Granger," she said to Hermione. "May I ask how you managed to visualise the transfiguration so easily?"

"It's simple, really," said Hermione, "the electrons inside a wooden match are tightly bound with each other, but the electrons in the needle are allowed to flow around the structure of the needle, so I only have to transmit a sense of freedom across with my wand, and the nuclei..."

"Fascinating," breathed Professor McGonagall. "So an approach based on Muggle science leads to faster results with you?"

Hermione beamed. Ron looked at her with apprehension, then turned back to his needle. Across the room, Neville was struggling, and Seamus had managed to light his - he hastily blew it out.

Nobody else succeeded during the lesson, and Professor McGonagall set them an essay on the transformation and the instruction to practise.

* * *

><p>Charms class the next day was given by Professor Flitwick, who was was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. He, like Professor McGonagall, also took roll call. When he got to Harry's name, he peered over the desk at him, before continuing.<p>

"One of the most important branches of magic is of course, charms," he said. "And the most important component of charms are the various wand movements, for example the upward jab " - he demonstrated the move - "the swish and flick" - again, a demonstration - "and of course, the anticlockwise twirl. Very few charms do not need a specific wand movement, and these tend to be elemental spells. Can anybody name such a spell?"

Hermione, of course, put up her hand.

"Yes, Miss -"

"Granger, sir. The Aguamenti Charm!"

"Excellent, ten points to Gryffindor. Anyone else?"

A couple of other hands went up, and Professor Flitwick started picking them out.

"Anthony Goldstein, sir. The Incendiary Charm?"

"Good, ten points to Ravenclaw."

"Lily Moon, Professor. The Ventus Jinx?"

"A good suggestion, but ultimately the Ventus Jinx is a jinx, not a charm. The Bubble-Head Charm is an effective elementary charm, but quite advanced, so we will not be covering it this year."

"Padma Patil, Professor. The Lumos Charm."

"Exactly what I was looking for. Other elemental spells include the Baubilious Charm and the Excavation Charm. Now the Lumos Charm is possibly the most simple spell on the Charms syllabus, so I thought it would make a good first lesson. To cast the spell, simply concentrate hard on the tip of your wand and utter the incantation which is of course, Lumos. If you are successful, the wand tip should light up. The depth of your concentration will, of course, be measured by the brightness of the light you create. All together now, one, two, three, Lumos!"

Four wands across the room lit up. Professor Flitwick clapped his hands.

"Excellent concentration, you four - let's see, Miss Patil, Mr Cornfoot, Mr Entwhistle and Miss Granger, that's thirty points to Ravenclaw and ten points to Gryffindor. Now, for those who have not succeeded, keep trying. For those who have lit wands, the counter-charm has the incantation Nox - simply repeat the process but utter the opposite word."

Professor Flitwick let people continue to attempt the charm as he moved around the classroom, offering help. Harry thought that this might be his favourite class so far, having mastered the charm with Ron about ten minutes in. Neville was having trouble, but thirty minutes in, his wand lit in a blaze of light that had the entire class shouting "Nox" in utter futility.

* * *

><p>Defence Against the Dark Arts was the class everyone, especially Seamus Finnigan, had been looking forward to, but quite frankly, it was a bit of a joke. The classroom had a funny smell, Professor Quirrell was always stuttering, and as Ron said later on, the best spell they'd learnt to Defend themselves Against the Dark Arts had been the Lumos Charm. Dean and Parvati found this funny, while Hermione looked scandalized at the insinuation. She couldn't deny, however, that it was quite true.<p>

* * *

><p>In their next Transfiguration lesson, Harry succeeded in turning his match into a needle. When Professor McGonagall asked how he did it, Harry said that he'd concentrated on the tip of the match first, given that both the tip of a match and the tip of a needle were both the painful parts and the useful parts. Hermione had begun to badger him about how on earth that approach could force through the transformation when Seamus Finnigan gave out a shout of surprise.<p>

"My match turned into a needle, but I didn't do anything," he babbled to Professor McGonagall, who strode over to his desk. She looked once around the classroom before finally settling on Ron's look of horror.

"Mr. Weasley, I had hoped that you would be less like your twin brothers, who I have had to throw out of this classroom no fewer than twenty-seven times each. Explain yourself!"

"Well, Professor," he said, gulping, "After Seamus lit his last match, I was looking over at him, and I thought that he had better get on and turn his match into a needle before he sets us all on fire."

Professor McGonagall looked down upon him, eyes narrowed, before walking up to the front of the classroom.

"Let this be a lesson to you all," she said. "Magic is an extremely dangerous tool to use, and will respond to many stimuli, including thought. This is, of course, why accidental magic occurs when a young witch or wizard is feeling particularly strong emotions, but intention-based magic is a mysterious and not particularly well understood area to study. Hogwarts is warded to the hilt against any dangerous magic, but be extremely careful. That said, I believe Mr. Weasley's accidental transfiguration was just that - an accident. Please turn and concentrate on your own needles now, instead of worrying about other people's."

Ron managed the conscious transfiguration of his needle on his next try. When the bell finally rang, Hermione stayed behind.

"Professor, how exactly is Hogwarts warded for safety?"

"That, Miss Granger, is a closely-guarded secret, only known to four individuals in the castle at this moment, and only one person outside this castle, Former Deputy Headmaster Lewis. I am sorry to say that I am not permitted to answer your question, and I hope you understand."

"Yes, Professor," said Hermione, then walked out of the classroom.

* * *

><p>Astronomy was held on Wednesdays at midnight on the top of the appropriately-named Astronomy Tower. They had to study the night skies through their telescopes, and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. It was Dean Thomas and Lavender Brown who excelled at this, the former because of his artistic skills, the latter because she had a (previously) hidden talent for picking out the constellations. I suppose there's not much else to say about Astronomy, except that they were all very tired on Thursday mornings, so it was a good thing they had History of Magic. Hermione, who refused to sleep during History of Magic, fell asleep during lunch, and was nearly late for Charms, in which they learnt no new spells, but did a lot of wand movements. Harry spent much of dinner eating with his left hand, as his right had become very sore.<p>

* * *

><p>And finally, of course, Double Potions on a Friday morning. This was their last lesson of the week (Harry was glad of this, as he had arranged to have tea with Hagrid at three), and quickly plummeted to the bottom as Harry's least favourite. The reason? Well, there were three main reasons, first and foremost being that Professor Snape hated Harry. The second reason was that it was eerie and dark in the dungeons. If you're holding lessons underground, why couldn't you have more light? Harry, used to the well-lit corridors of the tube network, disliked the classroom immediately.<p>

Snape started the lesson by taking roll call. When he got to Harry's name, he paused to look over at him.

"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity."

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle (Malfoy's bodyguards) sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had y caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Hermione was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to prove she wasn't a dunderhead. Harry gulped.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

What in the world was a bezoar?

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but Harry didn't have the faintest idea what monkshood was. He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.

"What would I get, Potter, if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

I know this one, thought Harry! It's... what is it... some sort of draught of death. Yes, I'll say that.

"The Draught of Death, Professor?" he volunteered. Snape's eyes glinted malevolently (as far as malevolent glints are possible in the human eye, of course) as he replied.

"Incorrect, Potter, your stupidity knows no bounds. For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death, not the "Draught of Death", as you so naively assumed. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your attention-seeking behaviour, Miss Granger."

Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. Ron paired up with Dean, while Hermione paired with Harry. When they returned with the ingredients, carefully holding the snake fangs, Snape waved his wand, and fires blazed beneath the many cauldrons across the room. Harry pushed his chair back from the flames, which crackled at him. Hermione looked at him oddly, but he grabbed the pestle and mortar from the table, put the snake fangs inside, and began to crush them.

Snape swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Hermione grabbed her bag and climbed onto her stool, but Harry was frozen in shock, looking at the smoke and flames.

* * *

><p><em>"This station is now closed. Please exit the station through any available exit."<em>

_Harry wandered through King's Cross St Pancras Station. He'd got off his Victoria Line train from Euston, and was heading for the Piccadilly Line so he could spend the night at Aldwych, which was usually a good place to go. He'd picked up a good meal in Finchley (he knew the staff at the Catcher in the Rye quite well), so he felt full. He heard the announcement as he reached the bottom of the stairs, and looked over at the escalators down the hall. Smoke and flames were coming from the escalator shaft, and he heard them. The screams._

_Harry ran for the stairs. The air suddenly heated up behind him and there was a loud bang, but he had already reached the top of the staircase. Jumping through the closing doors of a northbound Victoria Line train, he left the devastation behind him, the acrid stench of burning rubber remaining on the platform he'd just left._

* * *

><p>"Harry!" said Hermione. Harry slowly looked around at the rest of the classroom. Snape had evidently cleared up the potion spill, as he was berating Neville over it. Then he rounded on Harry.<p>

"You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

This did not register with Harry, and as they climbed the stairs an hour later, he remained silent.

"Harry sort of went into shock over the potions accident today. Harry, what's wrong?" asked Hermione. Ron looked worriedly over at Harry.

"What happened, mate?"

"Nothing," said Harry. "I - I just don't like fire that much."

"That's not dislike, Harry! Flashbacks only ever come from moments of extreme trauma. What happened?"

"It's gone now, Hermione, I'm fine," he repeated. Hermione and Ron did not press the issue.

* * *

><p>At five to three, Harry, Ron and Hermione made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.<p>

When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang - back."

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound. There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

"This is Ron," said Harry, "and that's Hermione." Hagrid was pouring boiling water from a jug by the fire into an enormous teapot and taking rock cakes out of a cupboard.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

"They shouldn't be in there!" said Hermione. Hagrid chuckled.

"I'd like to see anyone stop them," he said. "They're always hunting around in there, Merlin knows what for. So you're Hermione? Professor McGonagall told me about you, said you were the most brilliant young witch she'd ever met." Hermione blushed.

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Harry, Ron and Hermione pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes.

As Hermione talked about their Astronomy lessons, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:

**GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**

**Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.**

**Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.**

**"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.**

"Hagrid!" said Harry, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

Hagrid didn't meet Harry's eyes. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

* * *

><p>Well, I think I'll end it here. That Transfiguration lesson was a pig to write, and so was the flashback. A reminder - the flashback refers to the King's Cross Fire of 1987, which as I mentioned in The Scarred Man and the A Stock, Harry was present for (though he was just seven years old at the time). It's cruel fate to leave him in the sixth biggest LU accident in history (I'm counting fatalities here) - the top three are WWII accidents, number four is the 77 bombings and number five is the 1975 Moorgate crash.

Herbology does seem Pottermore-ish, but I like it that way. Professor Sprout, the Hufflepuff head of house would surely allow some of the dried nettles to be used in potions. As for the Hogwarts Wards, they will become an important part of the story later on.

Also, Ron and Hermione's first argument. It was after I wrote the A Stock story that I thought about all of Ron's wasted potential (master of the chessboard, but never used for strategy), so I decided to write a story where he'd be persuaded to buckle down and work. What could possibly encourage him to do so? Well, Hermione is his best bet. But he never listens to Hermione, does he? He's too stubborn and headstrong. Except - and this is the revelation - for on September 1st, 1991, when he's nervous and making his first friends. He meets Harry on that day, so how to make sure Hermione is in the same compartment as Harry (without this becoming a "the Grangers adopts Harry", which is done pretty well in The Accidental Animagus by White Squirrel)? Hermione would turn up ridiculously early, so we have to make sure Harry turns up early too. Why would he turn up early? So he didn't miss the train. Then, of course, I realised I was already writing the exact story I was trying to write.

Ron will never get the Agrippa card, I'm afraid. It must be enchanted to avoid male members of the Weasley family.

Right... please review, yada yada yada.


	6. Chapter 6: Wolverine Longbottom

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the Hogwarts Express. I do, however, own the Hogwarts Connect. I don't own anything else in the chapter except most of the dialogue. Just the speeple peaking.

Again, I am removing the bold from ex-canon lines. The story will probably want a rewrite, I suppose, but I can't imagine people who really haven't changed that much saying different things! Ex-canon lines will start to disappear over time, though.

Summary: A Harry Potter who spent four years on the London Underground now has to deal with a magical education. Canon diverged in 1987, no matter what you may think while reading this. Yes, it's this one. The one with all the trains. Go back and read from the start if it doesn't ring a bell.

I'm going to re-address my point about things not having changed much. Sure, Hermione's joined up with Harry and Ron early, but only her and Ron are really changing at this point in time. To this end, I'm going to rush through some events because they stay the same as canon, though the story arc is starting to happen.

On a less serious note, the spell checker I am using is trying to change Malfoy into Malformed. I take pride in the knowledge that my computer is not a Tom Felton or Jason Isaacs fanmachine (the mechanical version of a fangirl/fanboy).

* * *

><p>Harry Potter and the Hogwarts Connect<p>

by whoturnedoutthelights

Chapter 6: Wolverine Longbottom, or Bedlam and Broomsticks

After their first week, things began to settle into a routine. They weren't casting many spells in classes (mainly because in Charms they were focusing on wand movements, and because of Professor Quirrell's inability to teach more than theory), but the teachers piled homework on them all the same. On the second Wednesday of term, Ron, who did not enjoy the work, snapped.

"This is boring," he moaned. "Why are we even bothering to wave our wands in silly patterns, it's not as if any of us can't do it. Can't we play chess or something?"

He continued in this vein for another few minutes until Hermione pointed out to him that if he wanted to do magic, he'd have to learn the wand movements.

Harry, who was enjoying Hogwarts (with the glaring exception of Potions, of course), waved his wand absentmindedly. It squeaked at him, and he looked at it perplexedly. Shrugging, he continued the wand movement practice.

Something purple and fluffy ran past him, making burping noises, closely followed by Fred, George and their friend Lee Jordan.

Yes, Harry was enjoying Hogwarts.

* * *

><p>Well, he was, until on Saturday morning he woke to find a piece of parchment pinned to the noticeboard, talking about Flying Lessons, which would be starting on Thursday - and Gryffindor and Slytherin were learning together. Harry wasn't happy about this, for reasons ranging from "I'm going to make a fool of myself in front of Malfoy" to "Human beings aren't meant to fly on sticks of wood". And he wasn't the only one with these worries - Hermione and Neville seemed to be freaking out as well. Ron attempted to reassure them.<p>

"Flying's perfectly safe, it's great! There's loads of charms on the brooms, so it won't break underneath you, or anything."

Unfortunately, Ron had picked precisely the wrong moment to say this, as Fred and George materialised on either side of him just as he finished the sentence.

"Well, I wouldn't trust the school brooms not to break underneath you," George pointed out. Hermione buried her head in her hands.

"Yes, if you go too high, they'll start vibrating," said Fred, winking.

"And they'll veer off to the left quite suddenly."

"No-one's died in years."

"Can you shut up! You're not helping!" snapped Harry. Fred stepped backwards in apparent shock.

"ANYWAY," said Ron loudly, "you don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself. It's a bit of a lottery, flying - some people are really good, some people aren't. I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."

"Malfoy?" asked George. "You mean Lucius Malfoy's kid?"

"Yep, that's the one," said Ron. "I mean, he's supposed to have all the best tutors, and yet he's still only average in lessons. Hermione beats him hands down every time."

Hermione lifted her face out of her hands. Fred and George grew identical, evil grins. Ron hit Fred.

"Our dear brother struck me!"

"This demands an act of revenge."

"You have been warned."

"Come on," said Ron, leading Harry and Hermione down to breakfast.

* * *

><p>Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Harry had caught Ron prodding Dean's poster of West Ham soccer team, trying to make the players move.<p>

Ron's attempt at consolation had only partly worked. Harry could now deal with flying, but Hermione, usually the most logical member of the trio, had got even more nervous. Fred and George evidently had had an effect on her, and she had retreated to the library all weekend. On Sunday evening, she came staggering onto the common room, carrying four heavy tomes and a small, paperback book.

After History of Magic on Monday, Hermione returned three of the heavy books to the library, keeping both Encyclopedia Futharkia and, surprisingly, the small paperback book, which was called "Quidditch Through the Ages", which she spent the following two days perusing.

On Thursday morning, Hermione's nerves had risen to such a panic point that she started reading the book aloud. This did not help anyone - Neville, who was doing remarkably well despite having a track record of accidents, was hanging onto her every word. Dean Thomas and Lily Moon, the other Muggle-borns in first year Gryffindor were starting to get nervous as well, and everyone was glad when the mail arrived, because it interrupted Hermione's talk.

Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things - this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red - oh..." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet,

"You've forgotten something..."

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand. Harry and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

* * *

><p>At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.<p>

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Very few of the school brooms jumped into the hands of their respective first years, which was probably to be expected. Harry's broom had, Malfoy's broom had, and so had the brooms of Dean Thomas, Parvati Patil and Gregory Goyle. Ron's was slowly making its way into the air, while Hermione's was twitching on the ground. Neville's was not moving at all.

Eventually, all the brooms were in the air - it was partly a test of confidence, as Madam Hooch explained, as normally you'd just pick the broom up from the ground. She then taught them how to mount their brooms - Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two - one"

Neville, who was obviously worried about being left on the ground, kicked off hard, then rose into the air, higher and higher. Madam Hooch took out her wand, ready to stop him, when the broom, true to form started turning to the left. Neville, thirty feet off the ground and frozen with terror, simply slipped off the broom and fell.

WHAM - Neville hit the ground hard. The broomstick soared through an open window on the fifth floor, but nobody noticed this. Madam Hooch bent over him.

"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get.".

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Hermione stared at Neville as he limped away.

"That was a fifty foot fall! That should have killed him, how is he still alive?" she whispered to Harry.

"Accidental magic - that's really, really powerful stuff," said Ron. Harry, however, was distracted by a commotion. Draco Malfoy had bent down and picked something up from the ground.

* * *

><p>At dinnertime, Harry was hungrily devouring a steak and kidney pie, while telling Ron and Hermione about his appointment as Gryffindor Seeker. Ron was so surprised he dropped his fork.<p>

"Seeker?" he said. "But first years never - you must be the youngest house player in about -"

"- a century, said Harry, shoveling pie into his mouth. He felt particularly hungry after the excitement of the afternoon. "Wood told me."

"Professor McGonagall rewarded you for breaking the rules?" Hermione said. She'd managed to remember she was holding a fork, but it was a close call.

"What was I supposed to do, Hermione?" asked Harry. "Neville may be able to fall fifty feet and simply get a broken wrist, but I don't think a glass ball could manage the feat!"

"So when do you start training?" asked Ron, a little too loudly. Angelina Johnson, a third year, looked over at them and made a frantic shushing motion, as did Harry.

"Keep it quiet, Ron," said Harry. "Wood wants to keep it a secret."

Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Harry, and hurried over.

"Well done," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too - Beaters."

"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year," said Fred. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harry, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."

"Anyway, we've got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."

"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you."

Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up: Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly. There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only - no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?" Hermione looked appalled. Malfoy looked between Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.

"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

When Malfoy had gone, Ron and Harry looked at each other. "What is a wizard's duel?" said Harry. "And what do you mean, you're my second?"

"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Ron casually, getting started at last on his cold pie. Harry and Hermione looked at him in horror.

"People only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."

"Real wizards - what are we then?" quipped Harry. Hermione wasn't convinced.

"What if you get caught wandering around at night?" she asked. "Then you really will get expelled. Anyway, Malfoy's probably not going to risk it going there."

"Why wouldn't he?" asked Ron.

"Use your brains, Ron, why would Malfoy risk expulsion? He's probably going to tell Professor Snape or something, and then you'll be in real trouble."

Ron looked up at the staff table and shuddered at the thought of Snape looming out of the darkness in the trophy room.

"It would be just like him, the sneaky git," he said. "If only there was a way to check whether he was going to leave the Slytherin common room..."

"Where is the Slytherin common room?" asked Harry. Hermione tilted her head in thought.

"Dunno," said Ron. "Fred and George would, though." He looked down at the twins, who were halfway down the table. "I'll ask them later."

* * *

><p>Ron never did ask Fred and George about the Slytherin Common Room, because he was too busy attempting to explain wizarding duels to Hermione, who had, as usual, a barrage of questions, such as:<p>

"Is it like an honour duel?"

"Is it magic only, or is contact allowed?"

"Do people still do it?"

and of course, once she'd managed to ascertain enough, went on a rant about barbaric wizarding traditions. Only Neville had the daring to interrupt, which was quite unlike him, thought Harry, and Hermione only came to a stop when she remembered there was still a two foot essay about goblin wars.

Ron and Harry did not end up going to the duel when Professor McGonagall entered the common room five minutes before curfew started, and informed the room at large that under no circumstances was anyone to break curfew that night and go to the trophy room.

"That bloody Slytherin!" said Ron. "Language!" said Hermione. Ron shut up.

* * *

><p>The next day, Malfoy was pretty shocked to see Harry for some reason. He didn't say anything though, which surely meant he hadn't turned up to the trophy room either. Filch looked downcast as well, but Harry, Ron and Hermione paid him no mind.<p>

The next event of note happened a week later, when a long, cylindrical package carried by six large screech owls made its way down to where Harry was sitting. As the owls took up all the free space on the table, Hermione quickly moved Encyclopedia Futharkia off the table and made shooing motions at the owls, who were now eyeing the bacon greedily. Harry opened the note on top of the package.

**DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.**

**It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session.**

**Professor McGonagall**

Harry handed the note to Ron, who looked absolutely gleeful, and then picked up the package and headed down the table, trying to get it out of the Great Hall. Whispers broke out throughout the hall - it was pretty obvious that the package contained a broomstick - but Harry was not accosted until he was in the Entrance Hall, where Malfoy had just come out of the entrance to the dungeons. He grabbed the package from Harry and felt it.

"That's a broomstick," he spat at Harry. "First years aren't allowed them, you won't escape this time!"

Just then, Ron came out of the hall, grinning from ear to ear.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, Harry! That's the best... what are you doing, Malfoy? Give back Harry's package, you slimy git!"

Malfoy threw the package at Harry.

"Take your broomstick, Potter, you won't have it for long. Come," he said, and he moved towards the Great Hall. Crabbe and Goyle slouched after him.

Hermione was Not Happy that Harry had received a broomstick for breaking the rules, but she stopped arguing when Neville walked by her, Remembrall in hand.

* * *

><p>Harry, of course was a natural at flying, and at Quidditch, once it had been explained. The game of Quidditch was invented in 1017 at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in a collaborative effort between the pioneering sage Lunatius of Northallerton and the Hogwarts Founder Salazar Slytherin. Why Slytherin never took credit for this game is an issue I shall address later in the tale.<p>

The original version of Quidditch is quite a simple game at heart - like many Muggle games, there is an attacking and a defending element to the team. Due to the less dangerous nature of this prototype of the game, heavy, homicidal iron balls were added purely to cause death and destruction, because that's more fun to watch, and of course more players had to be added to knock them about. But overall, the prototype version of Quidditch was a simple seven by seven game, with three Chasers, two Keepers and two Beaters. With there being two Keepers, Quidditch scores from the early days of the sport were always very low - especially since the game had a strict 4 hour time limit.

What we now know as the modern version of Quidditch came about in the late 1200s, when the wicked fast and damn near impossible to see Golden Snidget bird became part of the game. One of the Chasers was repurposed to become a Seeker, and it was his/her job to contribute to the mistreatment and near extinction of the species. It was not long until conservation efforts meant the Golden Snidget was banned, and a mechanical version was sought. For several years, the Golden Snatch ball was used as the replacement - this was a simple bouncing ball, charmed to rocket around the pitch at high speeds, yet was still subject to Selwyn's Laws of Motion and Burke's Law of Gravitation. This ball was unpopular, as Seekers tended to rocket around the base of the pitch, making them difficult to watch, and since the ball had not been charmed to evade other players, it often doubled up as a third, highly dangerous Bludger - indeed, it is seen by some wizards as the precursor to the modern bullet. It was some five years later when the celebrated Wizarding inventor Bowman Wright finally invented the Golden Snitch, which is the ball used to this day.

* * *

><p>Author's Note<p>

It's taken me far too long to get through these early Hogwarts chapters (they are not my favourite part to embellish for readers who tend to be Harry Potter experts). I am attempting to advance the plot, though. Yes, there is a plot, quite an intricate one. It's not just rambling.

I am going to reiterate that the story diverged in 1987, and that I have read Quidditch through the Ages. For those expecting some trains, I am sorry to disappoint. Hogwarts does not have many trains, although there will be rail related twists coming in a few books time.

This was a short chapter, because I really need to keep going with this story.

Good reviews are like the Levitation Charm - they lifts the person up and provide a defence against trolls.

* * *

><p>Selwyn's Laws of Motion<p>

1) A Charmed Object in a state of uniform motion will remain in the same state of uniform motion unless acted on by a Movement Inducing Charm, or a Movement Reducing Hex.

2) The Magical Power of a Movement Inducing Charm is proportional to the magical core of the caster to the power of three and the acceleration of the object affected.

3) The Magical Power of a Movement Reducing Hex is proportional to the magical core of the caster to the power of seven, inversely proportional to the mass and proportional to the acceleration of the object affected.

4) For every Jinx there is an equal and opposite Counterjinx.


	7. Chapter 7: October 31st, 1981

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not owned by me. He is a wizard with free will, but he also has to bow down to the Great Goddess J. K. Rowling.

Summary: Harry Potter is abandoned on the London Underground in 1987 by complete accident. This is the story with the trains in it. Go back to the beginning if you forget.

Oh, by the way, what I mean by football is a soccer ball.

* * *

><p>Harry Potter and the Hogwarts Connect<p>

by whoturnedoutthelights

Chapter 7: October 31st 1991, or Wolverine Longbottom part 2

October 31st, 1991 was the tenth anniversary of the temporary defeat of Lord Voldemort. Thousands died due to his actions, but only the wizards remembered them. Three of the Light side's wizards in particular remembered the dark times best.

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, was of course one of these. Leader of the vigilante group the Order of the Phoenix, he remembers both the lives he succeeded in protecting and the many lives he failed to save. The war had taken its toll on him, and he would never act in violence towards another human being again.

Severus Snape, resident Potions Master of Hogwarts, was also one of these. Having served on both sides during the conflict, he most likely knew more of the dead than any other. One name, though, stood out. Lily Evans Potter. Oh, he had no problem with the name Lily Evans Potter, as he had mostly put his infamous schoolboy grudge aside after ten years of not seeing hide nor hair of the Marauders. Mostly - a hatred still burned for Sirius Black, the Potter's betrayer, but he could no longer hate the man who died attempting to save Lily, the man who died trying to avenge her, or the man who had nothing left for himself any more.

Because Severus Snape also had very little left for himself.

As for the third person, that was Garrick Ollivander, of course. Being a wandmaker with a conscience is a difficult profession in a wizarding war, and Ollivander, the man who sold the wands that caused so much grief felt guilty. Some say it unhinged him, while others claim he was always mysterious and creepy.

* * *

><p>Harry awoke particularly early on Halloween. Actually, if he'd woken up seconds later, he would have seen Fred and George Weasley sneaking out of his dorm room, but he did not.<p>

Transfiguration Class remained unaffected by the Halloween spirit, as Professor McGonagall continued to instruct them in turning crystal balls into either ordinary footballs or Quaffles. This transfiguration was more difficult than the original transfigurations with matchsticks and needles as the crystal ball is made of solid crystal, while the football or Quaffle contains air. Hermione's footballs tended to deflate far too easily, while Ron's Quaffles were more likely to fall apart. Seamus's Quaffles exploded. Harry attempted both transformations - he could pull off the Quaffle, but the football continued to evade him - it would not come out the wrong colour.

Hermione continued to use molecular structure to master her transfigurations.

Harry had mastered the transfiguration through imagining the required ball becoming softer.

Ron remained baffled by Hermione's Muggle science approach to the problem - his approach to transfiguration was simply to single-mindedly visualise the end result, and when doing Transfiguration the three of them would constantly butt heads as to which way was best.

As for Charms Class, Professor Flitwick had decided they were finally learning how to make objects fly. Thanks to Fred and George's fake wands, Ron and Harry had finally gotten the knack of the wand movements by having mock swordfights. Hermione disapproved of this method, but she disapproved of a lot of things, like breaking the rules, bulking up your essay length by writing with large letters and recklessly flying.

And, of course, obstructing the lines of sight of others by waving your levitated feathers in their faces, as Ron was soon to find out.

Harry was paired with Neville, who was having trouble with the levitation. Neville's performance in Charms was always a bit on the risky side - just like in the first class, he would fail to perform the charm several times, then it would be massively overpowered. Hermione thought it might have been because his wand was resisting him, but Neville denied this every time. Sure enough, the feather went rocketing up to the ceiling and was completely destroyed on impact.

"I think we're going to need another feather here, Professor," said Harry.

In response, Seamus's feather exploded.

* * *

><p>The Halloween Feast was everything you could expect from a Hogwarts Halloween Feast, with live bats swooping around, pumpkins galore, and large bowls of sweets scattered about. The highlight, or lowlight if you're that sort of person, was when Fred and George set off a Halloween-themed prank, dressing the school's demographic up in classic Muggle Halloween costumes. The general trend was caricatured vampires, werewolves and skeletons, though there were a number of green skinned witches and evil bearded wizards in black robes. Dumbledore and Snape were the latter, though they took it with differing amounts of grace.<p>

What really gave Fred and George away was the spectacular troll outfits worn by Graham Montague, Marcus Flint, Millicent Bulstrode and Ron Weasley.

While Professor Snape failed to undo the spellwork, he tucked the rather impressive beard he was sporting down the collar of his robes. Professor Dumbledore frowned at everyone, but the effect was offset by the twinkling eyes. Professor McGonagall, a now rather convincing double for the Wicked Witch of the West, issued a week of detention to both the twins.

Harry, a thin-looking skeleton, found it very funny.

"I hoped they'd do something like this at Hogwarts," he said to Hermione, a particularly bloody corpse. "I always wanted to go trick or treating!"

Hermione wiped some of the blood off her sleeves, but before she could answer, Professor Quirrell burst into the room, yelling, "TROLL! IN THE DUNGEON! TROLL IN THE DUNGEON!" before fainting about halfway up the aisle.

There was a stampede. Students across the hall leapt up and ran for the door. Several of the Slytherins actually got out. It took several purple firecrackers bursting from Dumbledore's wand to silence the student body. Professor Snape strode down the length of the Great Hall to track down those of his students who had panicked.

"Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Prefects, lead your houses back to the dormitories. Hufflepuff and Slytherin Prefects, lead your houses to the Library and Hospital Wing respectively. Teachers, come with me to the dungeons," said Dumbledore.

Percy rounded up the students.

"Everyone here? Excellent! Follow me, everyone! No need to fear the troll!" he said, leading the house out. Most of the house filed out of the room before Harry, Ron and Hermione noticed that Neville was lying on the ground groaning. Ron shouted for Percy to stop, but only Alicia Spinnet and Kenneth Towler at the back of the escaping horde stopped to see.

"What do we do?" asked Hermione frantically. Luckily Madam Pomfrey, the school's nurse, stopped to see. Bending down, she hit his torso with a healing spell, then straightened up.

"He should be all right now, but you will have to stick together and get back to your common room. For Merlin's sake, keep your heads down. I have to stay here to process any injured Slytherins, what were they thinking, running off like that?" she muttered as she walked up to the Slytherin table and started vanishing the mess made.

It was a mark of the seriousness of the occasion that Ron did not comment about the Slytherins. The six of them hurried up the marble staircase and down a long, stone corridor.

"How did a troll get in?" asked Harry.

"Well, they're supposed to be highly unintelligent and very large," said Hermione. Neville gave a half smile at that. "Which begs the question, how did one make it through the wards?"

"Maybe Peeves let it in as a joke," suggested Ron. Alicia Spinnet shot that down, though.

"He can't have, Peeves was planning to lead the ghosts in a charge on the Great Hall. Well, some of them - the Bloody Baron and the Grey Lady refused on principle, but the Fat Friar was really excited," she said.

"Wait, did you know?" asked Kenneth Towler in surprise.

"Yes, Fred and George weren't discreet enough in their planning. See how my skin hasn't changed colour?"

Suddenly, they heard footsteps behind them.

"Y-y-y-you there," said Professor Quirrell, who for some reason had his turban off. "W-why aren't you in your c-common rooms?"

"Neville was hurt in the stampede," supplied Hermione. Professor Quirrell walked past them, his head turned to face them.

"W-well you should g-get there as quickly as you c-c-can," he said, before backing away from them and then going down a corridor.

"Where's he going?" asked Harry. "Isn't he supposed to be in the dungeons?"

"There's always something wrong with the Defense Teacher," said Patricia Stimpson matter-of-factly.

"Should we tell a teacher?" asked Hermione as they took a right turn through a tapestry, down a short connecting passage and into the southern wing.

"When this is all over, we'll go and talk to one," replied Alicia. "What's that smell?" she asked. They stopped and sniffed - a powerful and musty stench came from the corridor to their left.

"I think it's the troll," whispered Hermione. Alicia stepped forwards, pushing the first years backwards and listened. A low grunting noise emnated from the corridor, then some heavy footfalls before the troll lumbered into view and saw them.

The troll was twelve feet tall, grey skinned and lumpy, with short fat legs and an enormous wooden club. But they didn't have long to study the troll before it struck out with the club and hit Alicia, who flew backwards down the corridor. Ron and Harry backed away towards Alicia, but Hermione and Neville stood frozen to the spot. Kenneth yelled, "Furnunculus!" at the troll, but the spell did nothing but enrage it further. Its eyes picked out Neville, who was the nearest of the bunch.

"Confuse it!" yelled Harry, reaching into his pocket for something to throw and finding it empty. However, nothing was necessary - the troll turned to look at Harry, lifted its club and lumbered towards him. Kenneth threw a few more hexes at the troll, but none of them affected it apart from directing it towards him. Ron and Harry yelled at it, but to no avail - it clubbed Kenneth in the side and he crumpled to the ground.

It was as the troll was lifting its club again that Harry did something that was both very stupid and quite possibly saved Kenneth Towler's life - he ran at the troll and leapt up, grabbing its club as it rose, then fell onto the troll's head. The troll did not feel Harry, but it did notice the wand that went straight up its nose, and shook its head violently, with Harry attempting to hold on. Hermione, on the other hand, had finally recovered from the shock, and threw the Knockback Jinx, Flipendo. This did absolutely nothing, and the troll continued to shake its head, lifting its club into the air. Hermione panicked, and threw red sparks, the Leg-Locker curse and the Unlocking Charm at the troll, none of which did anything. Ron pulled at Neville, but he was still frozen.

The troll then managed to dislodge Harry from its back. Ron looked at the troll in horror as it lifted up the club, Harry held in one of its fists.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

The troll's club flew upwards with such force it cracked the ceiling, then fell to the ground; the troll itself looked up in confusion and dropped Harry, who moved away quickly. Neville looked at the ceiling in horror, his wand drawn. The troll then looked down and reached for its club, but was distracted as Professor Dumbledore, the four Heads of Houses, Professor Quirrell and Madam Pomfrey came charging round the corner. Professor McGonagall waved her wand in a flourish and the troll was flung backwards and bound in chains. Quirrell staggered back against a wall, clutching his heart.

Snape went over to the troll. Madam Pomfrey, Professor Sprout, Professor Dumbledore and Professor Flitwick went to inspect the two third years. Professor McGonagall glared at the four of them with pure fury.

"What in Merlin's name were you thinking?" she said. "You're lucky you weren't killed. What possessed you not to go to your dormitory?"

Snape glared at Harry looked at the floor. Ron, Hermione and Neville opened their mouths at once and started speaking.

"Well, what it is-"

"When the stampede-"

"They were helping-"

"One at a time," said Professor McGonagall, pointing at Hermione.

"When the stampede happened in the Great Hall, Neville got trampled on by someone. We tried to stop Percy, but only Alicia and Kenneth heard. Madam Pomfrey fixed up Neville, and we were just going to our common room when the troll found us. It knocked out Alicia, and when Kenneth tried to curse it, it got him too. Harry jumped on its back and stuck his wand up his nose and Neville levitated its club out of the way," she said, motioning to the ceiling. "If you hadn't found us, we'd probably be dead."

Snape snorted. "A likely story -"

"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," warned Dumbledore, but Snape was not listening.

"Can anyone confirm this? Poppy would never abandon a patient behind. What probably happened was Potter, like his idiotic father, dragged his friends into danger trying to play the hero. He's playing innocent now, and you're just going to look the other way, as usual," he ranted. Harry looked at him in anger and confusion. His father wasn't stupid, surely? What did Snape mean?

"Actually, I did have to patch Neville up," said Madam Pomfrey. "I would have escorted them myself if I didn't have to tend to those foolish Slytherins."

"See," said Professor Dumbledore. "A simple misunderstanding, Severus. Now, I believe Miss Spinnet is awakening..."

Alicia had indeed opened her eyes.

"Professor," she said.

"Can you inform us as to what happened, Miss Spinnet?" asked Dumbledore.

"I can't really remember," she said, "we were walking back to the common room because Neville had been injured, and we bumped into Professor Quirrell, but he just told us to hurry on, and then there was a horrible smell and the troll came out. I don't really remember anything else," she finished awkwardly.

"Quirinus?" asked Dumbledore. Quirrell looked up at him.

"What? Oh yes, yes, I saw P-Potter and Spinnet, they were heading to their d-dormitories."

"Well, that's settled, then. Now, I think you should all go back to your common room, you can continue the feast in there," said Dumbledore. Snape looked livid, but kept his mouth shut.

"Not these two, or you, Longbottom," said Madam Pomfrey. "I'm taking you to the hospital wing. They are injured and it is my responsibility to care for them."

She, Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick and Professor Dumbledore levitated the two unconscious third years and walked off to the hospital wing, and took Neville with them.

"As for you three," said Professor McGonagall, "**I don't think I need to tell you how lucky you were.** In future, stick to a teacher or prefect. I sincerely hope this never happens again, but at least you should be prepared. You may go."

She and Professor Snape turned to the troll. Harry, Ron and Hermione left.

"I hope that never happens again," said Hermione. Ron nodded along with her.

"An Unlocking Charm, really?" asked Harry.

"Well, I was panicking, okay? Besides, I don't see you doing any better - you jumped on its back!"

Ron laughed.

"Ron!"

"Sorry," he said immediately. "But it was kind of funny, mate."

"But what happened with Alicia?" asked Hermione. "She got hit on the head by a club and she's mostly fine."

"Probably the Professors," said Ron knowingly. Hermione looked at him oddly.

"And Neville," said Harry. "He was almost crushed - how can he function well enough to cast such a powerful Levitation Charm?"

"It can't have hurt that much," said Ron.

"Trust me, I know how dangerous a stampede can be," said Harry. "I was there when they put up the Bethnal Green plaque." Hermione looked at him in surprise.

"What happened at Bethnal Green?" asked Ron.

"I'll explain later," said Hermione.

They kept going in silence until they reached the Fat Lady.

"Pig snout," said Ron and they climbed through the portrait hole. The common room was packed, and they hurried off to get plates. Angelina Johnson rushed up to them.

"Where's Alicia?" she asked. There was a brief silence.

"She's in the hospital wing with Kenneth Towler. They were protecting us and Neville from the troll. Neville got hurt in the stampede," explained Harry. Angelina glared at them, then her face softened. Oliver Wood was not happy, though.

"My Chaser is in the Hospital Wing a week before the first match?" he thundered. Hermione looked alarmed.

"Yes, she got hit on the head by the troll," replied Ron. Harry looked at him with a certain respect for the way he risked life and limb telling Oliver Wood that. Wood, however relaxed. Angelina looked at him angrily.

"She got a blow to the head and that suddenly makes it better?" she asked him.

"Well, at least it wasn't her arms," said Oliver Wood. This was the wrong thing to say. Harry, Ron and Hermione edged away from the brewing catastrophe and piled their plates with dinner.

An hour later, Neville came through the portrait hole and went up to the three of them. "Thanks," they said awkwardly, then Neville went off to get his plate, stepping gingerly round an Oliver Wood lying face down on the ground.

But from that moment onwards, Neville Longbottom became their friend. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve foot mountain troll is one of them.

* * *

><p>Well, thought I'd get this chapter done fast to make up for the long wait for the last one. Oh, Neville.<p>

RIP for those who died at Bethnal Green, the biggest UK civilian disaster in WWII. Harry would know about stampedes, just like he knows about other bad things like fires and standing on the left of the escalator.

In terms of how Harry learnt to read (beyond Year 2/Second grade in primary/elemental school), it was mainly from Evening Standards read under the guidance of station staff who just couldn't resist his natural charm and persuasiveness. And his due-to-the-Horcrux charm and persuasiveness. The same members of staff who direct him to where he can procure food. For those who don't know, the Evening Standard does not have the strongest political stance (that's got to be the likes of the Daily Mail, which Uncle Vernon reads).

The Professors are covertly looking into where Harry can stay, but haven't found anywhere. I say covertly, because the only option standing in the way of open floor to the Notts and Rowles is a registered werewolf.

Also, magical cores is wrong, just so you know. The Selwyn Laws of Motion get that bit wrong, just like Newton gets it wrong that mass is constant. Augustus Selwyn had Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, but as he was a pureblood wizard, he attributed it to a lack of magical skill (a Muggle disease, how could a noble pureblood contract such a thing), and bought into popular 13th century theories like the Magical Core as a way to explain away the constant exhaustion he tried to hide for so long. What he refers to as the Magical Core is actually the scalar product of the magical power of the animal which provided the core and the caster's familiarity with the spell, and the high powers explain why it's so hard to do a spell without lots of practice!

Please review! I've got some plot done! I always thought that the Halloween feast was lacking Halloween costumes, and that we see remarkably few (read none that I can remember) of Fred and George's pranks over the span of the books.

* * *

><p>Deleted Scene:<p>

Hermione ducked into a toilet, while Ron and Harry waited. Suddenly, Fred and George came charging down the corridor to the toilet door, turned the key and ran away.

"GITS!" yelled Ron. Harry shook the handle, but it was no good.

"Alohomora," came a voice from within, and Hermione opened the door. "It wasn't you who did this, was it?"

"No, Fred and George," said Ron. **"**Alohomora?"

"Standard Book of Spells, chapter 7," replied Hermione.

Meanwhile, round a corner, Fred and George smirked.

"We have finally found our revenge."

"Indeed. We have."


	8. Chapter 8: 32 Feet Per Second Per Second

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the root of all evil. Since evil is negative, this means he is imaginary, and hence transcends ownership.

Summary: Harry Potter is abandoned on a Northern Line train at London Bridge at the age of seven. Remember, loads of trains?

I'm trying to cut down on ex-canon lines, but there are some absolutely brilliant ones, like "TROLL IN THE DUNGEON!", "Seekers are always the ones that get clobbered by the other team" and "Well, well, we are in trouble". I've already had to cut "priorities", which was painful. That reminds me, I need to sort my own out. I've also stopped emboldening them, because I now realise that looks annoying.

It's hard to avoid Stations of the Canon in a storyline where the pace of the plot is strictly controlled by Hogwarts, Hagrid and Dumbledore. Nevertheless, I have a twist on its way.

There's only one way to interpret the start of Quidditch as in the story, with the players kicking off as the whistle goes, and yet the matter of who gets it being important, and that's to have the Quaffle some distance up into the air at the start of play.

* * *

><p>Harry Potter and the Hogwarts Connect<p>

by whoturnedoutthelights

Chapter 8: Gryffindor vs Slytherin, or 32 feet per second per second

Over the next few days, Neville began to slightly regret his new friendship with Harry, Ron and Hermione. They were quite hard work, and to be honest, really contradictory and confusing. Hermione, stringent rule follower, was happy to look the other way while Harry and Ron badmouthed Snape. Ron, lazy wizard supreme, was actually probably the best chess player that Neville had ever met, including his Great Uncle Algie, and usually completed his homework without too much complaint when he got into it. And Harry.

Harry was a complete and utter mystery to him - he seemed to operate on morals alone.

The three of them brought Neville up to date with the strange resilience to physical accidents propagating across the school. Neville, like Ron, attributed them to accidental magic, but was confused as to the frequency, and was not too interested in the conversation.

However, though his new friends could drive him crazy, Neville was happy with the new arrangement. He always had a partner in Potions, he could get the homework done more quickly (especially with Hermione on hand), his evenings had suddenly become much more fun with friends and they always had something nice to say.

Two months in, Neville Longbottom was truly enjoying Hogwarts.

* * *

><p>Alicia was out of the hospital wing by morning, which was good for Ron, Neville and Hermione, because Oliver Wood would have murdered them otherwise. Harry, perhaps not - he was the star Seeker - but the other three first years were fair game, for the Quidditch season had begun. The first match of the season was the infamous Gryffindor vs Slytherin grudge match, in just over a week's time on the 10th of November.<p>

Harry's appointment as Gryffindor Seeker was a complete secret, so naturally the whole school knew about it. Slytherins made snide comments as they passed him in the halls, and once a Trip Jinx soared over his shoulder (Hermione managed to identify the spell, but not the caster). Wood's advice to him was to "stay high up and keep out of trouble", which was parroted to him by Fred, George, Patricia Stimpson (who had also recovered overnight) and memorably Seamus Finnigan, in clichéd Irish style, the morning before the match.

The match also counted for House points, and a win would push Gryffindor into second place in the House Cup, so even Hermione had a vested interest in the Gryffindor team's success. She gave Harry the library copy of Quidditch through the Ages, and after perusing it eagerly and declaring it the best book he'd ever read, Harry ordered his own copy from Flourish and Blotts.

Harry was looking forward to the match, because contrary to what one might expect, he enjoyed soaring 66 feet above the ground just as much as he enjoyed travelling 66 feet below it. He did not, however, account for a bout of nervousness right before the game, and refused to eat anything at breakfast before it. Consequently, he headed down to the pitch with a stomach that felt simultaneously full and empty.

It took remarkably little time to change into their scarlet Quidditch robes before Oliver Wood, the Captain, gave them all a pep talk.

"Okay, men," he said.

"And women," said Chaser Angelina Johnson.

"And women," Wood agreed. "This is it."

"The big one," said Fred.

"The one we've all been waiting for," said George.

"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Harry, "we were on the team last year."

"Shut up, you two," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it."

He glared at them all as if to say, "Or else."

"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."

Harry picked up his Nimbus Two Thousand, which suddenly seemed very heavy in his hand, and walked out onto the pitch with the rest of the team to tumultuous applause. From the other end of the pitch came seven hulking figures, dressed in green - these had to be the Slytherins. High above them, in the stands were banners and flags, waving.

Madam Hooch was standing at the centre of the pitch, broomstick in hand. The Quaffle was floating fifty feet above her. The Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, who looked a bit like a troll with hair, had his eyes fixed on it.

"Captains, shake hands!" she said, and Wood and Flint each grasped the others' hand and tried to break it. A few seconds later, when he had not succeeded, Flint let go, and they stepped back, glaring at each other.

"I want a nice clean game. All of you!" she said, then blew her whistle. Fifteen brooms kicked off from the pitch, and Angelina led the charge for the Quaffle, grabbing it and soaring off towards the Slytherin goals.

* * *

><p>Twenty minutes later, Harry was still soaring around the top of the Quidditch pitch. He had not had much luck in seeing the Snitch, but it didn't much matter - he was having the time of his life, and Gryffindor was leading thirty points to zero. A Bludger had taking a brief holiday from its Fred-encouraged beating up of the Slytherins and come soaring at him, but he was able to dodge it, and its Weasley trainer sent it flying at Marcus Flint, who dropped the Quaffle.<p>

"And Fred Weasley - at least I think it is - successfully knocks a Bludger at Marcus Flint - wait, was that the Snitch?"

Higgs had seen it too, but he was on the opposite side of the pitch. Harry dived towards it, and it attempted to fly away into obscurity - but with little luck. As he closed in on it, Lee's commentary seemed to be muted, as his mind focused only on the golden ball fluttering desperately ahead of him. He was twenty feet from it - ten feet - WHAM.

Marcus Flint smashed into Harry, who was sent spinning away. The Snitch vanished again in the commotion, and the commentary came roaring into Harry's ears once more, Lee's furious indignation channeled straight into one perfectly placed swear word. Professor McGonagall yelled at him, as Harry righted himself.

"- so, after that disgusting attempt to kill the Gryffindor Seeker -"

"JORDAN!"

"OK, OK, the Gryffindor Seeker narrowly escapes death, but he does that anyway, so Spinnet in possession, Spinnet really flying along..."

Harry's head was still spinning for several seconds, but once it had settled down, he was off around the pitch again, searching. The Snitch did not turn up for another two hours, during which time Gryffindor managed to score another nine goals, and Slytherin had got themselves four. It was as Katie Bell was making an attempt on the hoops that it happened.

Harry's broom suddenly jolted in midair, and he held on to the handle by pure chance. Nothing happened for another few seconds, and just when he had discarded it as a freak accident, it happened again. A few seconds after that, the broom twisted in mid-air and shook, like a dog that has just come in from the rain. Then it started rolling, over and over, with Harry gripping the handle for dear life. People across the stands were noticing it as well, pointing and gesticulating. Marcus Flint snatched the Quaffle from Katie, who barely noticed, and pelted up the pitch.

"What's going on with Harry's broom?" asked Hagrid. "I've seen him at practice, he's better than that."

"Maybe one of the Slytherins tampered with it," said Ron, "Flint, maybe."

"Can't have," said Hagrid. "Way he's bin flying around, would take a proper Dark enchantment, placed beforehand. Nobody coulda hit it with a spell, especially not Flint. Nah, that would be a deliberate act of sabotage, which reminds me -" Hagrid stopped talking, and reached into his coat, but Ron had turned to Hermione, who was scanning the teachers' podium.

"... Quirrell, Dumbledore? Wait, he seems to be pointing his wand at the ground, McGonagall too, Snape - I knew it!"

"What?" asked Ron, looking at her in confusion.

"It's Snape, he's jinxing the broom, just staring at it and whispering. I think Quirrell's trying to stop him, or maybe they're working together, but Snape hates Harry and whoever's doing the jinxing seems to be winning, I think Dumbledore's trying to ward the pitch -"

"Jinxing the broom?" interrupted a horrified Ron. "What do we do?"

"Leave it to me," said Hermione, and she darted into the stands. Ron turned to Neville.

"Neville, when you fell off your broom, what happened? Did something kick in, did someone cast a spell or something?"

"No, all I thought about was how I was going to die, and then I hit the ground and it was all fine," said Neville, looking worriedly back at Ron. He looked back up at Harry, then put his face in his hands. Ron looked back at Hagrid, but Hagrid seemed to be ignoring everyone, just muttering with his head down, hands gripping his pink umbrella. Ron picked up the binoculars and looked at the teachers' stand.

"Hermione, come on," he said.

On the pitch, George Weasley had tried to fly up and fetch Harry, to try and pull him onto his broom, but the moment he got anywhere close, his broom went careering off in another direction, smashing into Marcus Flint and sending the Quaffle flying away. Fred was hovering below Harry, clearly waiting to catch him, and Oliver Wood, bless his one track mind, was marking Higgs.

While this was happening, Hermione had reached the teacher's stand. Passing by Professor Sprout, who seemed to be looking up in terror, she tripped over a gaudy monstrosity of a shawl and went crashing to the ground.

Harry's broom stopped moving for a few seconds, then suddenly went into a dive. It rocketed past Fred, whose attempt to catch Harry failed. Twenty feet from the ground, the broom came to an abrupt halt, but Harry had gained too much momentum and was sent flying off the end and smashing into the pitch at high speed. There was a large flash of light, and then people started swarming onto the pitch - completely missing the ringing sound of a large gong. Neville looked up from his hands to see Harry's broom floating in the air and its owner lying on the pitch.

As Harry's body was levitated into the air, his arm at an odd angle, Ron, who had fought his way to the front of the crowd, noticed a glint of gold and pieces of clockwork sticking out of the ground. He leant down and picked up the mangled remains of what was unmistakably the Golden Snitch and the crowd swept him towards the castle.

* * *

><p>AN: Of course he isn't dead. Really, why would you think that? He just hit the ground really hard, Neville did that and made it out with just a broken wrist.

Freefall from 200 feet, four times higher than the goalposts takes less than 4 seconds, so there's not much time for anything to happen.

Clearly, what happened with the dive is that the broom enchanter noticed Hermione struggling towards them and decided to finish the job off. Damn you Trelawney.

Quidditch is hard to write. I spent two months at the start of the match, not writing, simply thinking "How on earth am I going to write this?", before actually going on and diving into it. My ultimate aim with the game is to make the Snitch harder to see, which would drag the game out longer, because changing the 150 point thing? 150 is the default large number in Harry Potter, you can't just go changing it whenever you want.

In case you are a Quidditch die-hard, the eventual score was 270-100 (Flint managed to score six times before he was knocked flying by George. At this point, as no players were keeping track of the Quaffle, it was lost in the grass on the pitch).

Please review, proper feedback helps to speed up the process, and the faster the process is, the faster I'm through to the big divergence events here, instead of being held at red signals in the canon stations. Review Express vs All Stations of the Canon Stopper.


	9. Chapter 9: Coatsmas

Disclaimer: I have never owned Harry Potter. I own a few copies of the books, and the extra ones. I own the 8-disc box set. I own a stick masquerading as Hermione's wand. I own a discarded sticker book. I own a copy of "The Magical Worlds of Harry Potter". I own this fanfiction. I think that's it though.

I have never owned the London Underground. I own an Oyster Card. I own several old paper travelcards. I own a collection of tube maps. I own an old London Connections Map. I own several old bus maps. I own some old stickers from A Stocks, and a couple of tickets from the Acton Depot. There is an old staircase in Tottenham Court Road station that only I and a few others ever used (it is now gone forever, swallowed up by Crossrail), and another even less used one at Essex Road abandoned station that I'm pretty sure nobody else has used in years. I don't own them though.

I don't own anything so far, except a few 'historical' figures. There may be a few original characters, but nobody of real importance to the storyline, and nothing is confirmed yet! Nothing is confirmed. NOTHING IS CONFIRMED...

Summary: Harry Potter is accidentally left on a train in London at the young and tender age of seven, and grows up in the London scene (mainly the public transport network, he knows it inside out). Features whatever is inside it. No pairings yet, because they are in first year, and this story is not about the pairings (well, the pairings do come in to it quite a bit during the later stories, but simply because they are the pairings, and not because I hope to dwell on the pairings, if you want to read pairings, go somewhere else).

Cliché Warning: There is a multi-compartment trunk in this chapter. This trunk is around twice the size it should be on the inside. This trunk does not contain a house, because Harry is sensible. There is also a reference to pureblood-favouring laws, a reference to 'pranking' and 'Marauders', and we do pass through some plot elements at high speed.

Anti-Cliché Warning: There is a discussion about coats. I don't think I've ever read a fanfiction where they chat about coats.

* * *

><p>Harry Potter and the Hogwarts Connect<p>

by whoturnedoutthelights

Chapter 9: Christmas at Hogwarts, or Coats

Harry woke up from his fall around thirty minutes after it had happened to find a bright red something hanging over him. Desperately tried to move away from it, he only succeeded in moving into a brown curtain over to his left.

"Don't loom over him like that, Ron!"

"Yes, Ronnie, nobody wants to see your face when they wake up."

"Shut up, George."

Harry blinked again, and Ron, Hermione, Neville, Fred and George loomed into view. He reached out for his glasses, but his arm ached. Putting them on, he was able to get a proper look at a spacious, old fashioned room with large glass windows down the sides - this must be the hospital wing.

"Ouch, that hurts - what happened?"

"Well, your broom was being cursed, mate," said Ron.

"Talking about the obvious there," said Harry. "But the match, who won?"

"Boys and Quidditch!" huffed Hermione. It wasn't as effective as it would one day be, though.

"Well, there's some debate," said Ron. "Normally the Snitch can't be destroyed, there's a charm on it, but Hooch says whatever spell was on your broom caused it to fail when you came crashing down towards the ground, and you were going pretty fast..."

Ron reached inside his robes and brought out the mangled remains of the Golden Snitch.

"I showed it to Madam Hooch, and they're trying to set a precedent. Wood thinks it should count as a catch for the extra points, while Flint thinks you should be disqualified for destroying it, bloody Slytherin. Probably they're going to go with the score as it is though, which is fine - one hundred and twenty to a hundred, so we won. But anyway, that's not the important bit, see Hermione was looking at the stand and Snape was jinxing your broom, we saw it! We think Quirrell was trying to stop him, or maybe helping him, but it's Quirrell we're talking about here. Hermione went to stop him, but she tripped over some woman's shawl and then you went crashing into the ground," said Ron.

"Wait, wait. Snape was jinxing my broom?"

"Yes, I saw him," replied Hermione. "I've read all about curses and you've got to keep eye contact. Professor Snape was just staring at you and muttering, he wouldn't keep his eyes off you. I was this close to them before that stupid shawl tripped me over, too..."

"What would you have done to them, though?" asked Harry.

"Yeah, what would you have done, Hermione?" added Ron. Hermione went pink.

"Come on Granger," said one of the twins.

"Out with it!"

"I... wasgoingtosethimonfire," she admitted in a rush.

There was a ringing silence. Fred and George stared in utter shock. Finally, Fred spoke up.

"You, Hermione Granger, were going to set Snape, a Hogwarts teacher, on fire?"

"Hogwarts teacher or not," she replied, "I know a curse when I see one, and Snape wasn't blinking. Anyway, what would you have-"

She stopped in her sentence as Fred and George had dropped to their knees in front of her.

"We are not worthy," they chorused in unison. Hermione gave them the Glare, and they got up hastily.

"What's wrong, Neville?" asked Harry to Neville, who had not spoken a word through the exchange.

"Nothing," said Neville. "It's just so much more scary when you're seeing someone else fall. I reckon there's probably something to your theory about the accidents. Maybe it's some kind of magical artefact or something, I'm not sure."

"What's this about accidents?" asked George.

"You've been at Hogwarts for years now - have you noticed any weird accidents, people making surprising recoveries?" replied Hermione.

"No, can't say that I have," said George. "Why?"

"Because there's something here at Hogwarts that's causing people to recover quickly. Some sort of healing ward or something," said Hermione. "So if there's some sort of magical object, it arrived in the school this year, so what could it be - wait, Harry, didn't you say Hagrid took something out of Gringotts?"

"That makes sense!" said Harry. "But it was really small, so how could it possibly be so powerful?"

"Size is no guarantee of power," said George.

"Yeah, look at Ginny," said Fred. Ron shuddered.

"That's your sister, right?" said Neville.

"Yep," said Ron, "and those Bat Bogey Hexes are scary."

"No-one else knows how to use them as well," said Fred. "They're not in anything we've read."

"We know," chorused Hermione and Harry.

"Anyway, getting back on track," continued Hermione, "If Hagrid took something out of Gringotts and brought it to Hogwarts, where would it be?"

Silence once more descended on the hospital wing, but it did not last very long as Hermione turned to the twins.

"You know, don't you," she said. It wasn't a question. The twins nodded as one, then Fred bent his head down to whisper.

"We broke into the third floor corridor, the forbidden one, on the first night. There's a three headed dog in there, it's massive, and it's standing over a trapdoor. It's guarding something."

"Guarding something?" asked Ron, a bit too loudly. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse came out of her office.

"Out, all of you! This patient needs rest! Rest and relaxation!" she said to them. The five students got up from by Harry's bed and left the room. "Don't know what caused a fall like that, I've been saying for years, Quidditch is too unsafe, it causes too many accidents, but will they listen? No! Now, does this hurt?"

Madam Pomfrey pressed a gloved hand to Harry's arm.

"No," said Harry.

"What about this?"

"No."

"This?"

"No - it's not hurting, so can I go?"

"Certainly not, Potter, you need to be checked over properly!"

* * *

><p>Thirty minutes later, once Harry's arm had been poked and prodded all over, he was finally allowed to leave the Hospital Wing. Searching the school for his friends, he went straight for the library where, as expected, Hermione was sitting with a large, dusty tome. Far less expected were Neville and Ron, also looking at their own large, dusty tomes.<p>

"Hey," he said. Hermione looked up from her book.

"Keep it down, will you?" she said quietly. "Madam Pince has already been past twice."

Madam Pince was the Hogwarts librarian, and the most sharp, sour and strict person Harry knew.

"So, why are you all here? And don't tell me it's homework, Ron's concentrating far too hard."

"Looking up healing artefacts," said Neville. "Hey, Hermione, what about this one?"

Neville held up a copy of 'Historical Magical Items of the Founders', pointing to a page on which a cup glistened.

"Hufflepuff's cup," he explained. "Listen to this:

_Of all the magical relics from Hogwarts' long history, few are more sought after than the Heirlooms of the Founders. Said to be enchanted by the Founders themselves, the four Heirlooms, together with the Sorting Hat are said to be the only remaining possessions of the Founders - Gryffindor's Sword, Ravenclaw's Diadem, Hufflepuff's Cup and Slytherin's Locket. By far the most sought after is Ravenclaw's Diadem, said to bestow the unparalleled wisdom of Ravenclaw herself on the wearer, but Hufflepuff's Cup comes a close second. Hufflepuff's Cup was reputed to have the ability to heal nearly every disease or affliction, and has assisted in the creation of various healing artefacts over the past thousand years, most famously the Staff of Paracelsus. It also held the dubious honour of being the last of the Founders' artefacts to disappear, having mysteriously vanished in 1948 upon the poisoning of its last owner, a Ms. Hepzibah Smith, while both Gryffindor's Sword and Ravenclaw's Diadem have been lost since the time of the Founders. Slytherin's Locket, whose properties are mysteriously shrouded in history, was rumoured to have also been in Ms. Smith's possession and to have vanished at the same time, although most Founders Scholars believe the locket in her possession was a cleverly crafted fake._

So, a cup that heals you? Could it have been a cup?"

"Nah," said Harry. "Far too small for a cup. Sounds interesting though - especially Gryffindor's Sword."

Hermione shook her head at that. "Honestly, boys and swords," she said. "I wonder if Hufflepuff's Cup was related to the Holy Grail?"

"The what?" asked Ron and Neville.

"Wizards," huffed Hermione. "The Holy Grail! Arthurian legends? Cup of Christ? Indiana Jones? No?"

"Who the hell is Indiana Jones?" said Ron.

Hermione looked helplessly at Harry.

"Sorry, Hermione, I only saw the posters for it," he said. "Never got to read about King Arthur either."

"I'm getting you all a copy of The Once and Future King," she said in annoyance. "This is non-negotiable. Especially for you, Ron."

Ron looked downcast. He then had a look over at Historical Magical Items of the Founders.

"Gryffindor's Sword looks cool, though!"

Who knows, thought Hermione, he might actually read it.

* * *

><p>November moved along all too quickly. Madam Hooch eventually capitulated to Wood's point of view that the Snitch-squashing had counted as a catch, and Gryffindor was declared the winner of the match, 270-100. Malfoy was furious, of course, but nobody bar his and Pansy's gangs of Slytherins listened to him. Ravenclaw had won against Hufflepuff, 220-80, and Christmas was on its way. The Scottish cold weather had made its scheduled appearance, and while Professors Flitwick and Sprout each taught them the Incendiary Charm, Professor Snape preferred to let them freeze in his classroom.<p>

The Great Hall was being decorated with several large Christmas trees covered with tinsel and baubles. Mistletoe lined the hallways, and pairs of students were often seen blocking the hallways. Christmas lights were hung through certain corridors, and a Christmas dinner (mainly for students going home for Christmas) was to be held the night before they left.

Harry, of course, was not going home at Christmas for many reasons, among them because it was the most inconvenient time of year to be in London (what with all London transport being closed for an entire day, it was usually a thoroughly unpleasant night in the cold), but mainly because Hogwarts was the only real home he knew. He was not alone - Ron and the rest of the Weasleys were staying, and a variety of other students. Hermione was going home, though - her parents being busy for most of the year, Christmas was an important time for them. She took out several large books from the Hogwarts Library, packing them into her trunk, which filled up the space her cauldron would have taken had she brought that instead.

Neville was also going away for the holidays - the Longbottom family celebrated Christmas privately, he claimed, and did not answer any more questions. None of them pushed him to explain. Neville did agree to look for possible healing artefacts, but was not particularly hopeful.

* * *

><p>On the last day of school, snow descended on Hogwarts, and at breakfast, Dumbledore suspended the dress code on the school, permitting the students to don coats and scarves in addition to their robes. The Hogwarts issue winter cloak, while providing a certain level of protection against the cold, was poorly spelled and failed in areas of high magical concentration, so was effectively useless at Hogwarts. This, said Neville, was a law made to be in favour of the richer purebloods, who simply brought their own, more sturdy cloaks. Hermione laughed at this.<p>

"When Professor McGonagall delivers the letters to the Muggleborns," she said, "she tells us the winter cloak doesn't work, so we've all got coats in the dormitories." Sure enough, Justin Finch-Fletchley came into the Great Hall wearing a long black greatcoat, with a silver trim on the side. Draco Malfoy looked shocked at this casual display of Muggleborn wealth. Ron had made up his mind not to wear a coat, but Harry, who had had too much experience of the biting winter winds, insisted.

"But I didn't bring a coat," moaned Ron.

"It doesn't matter," said Harry, "I've got a few, you can borrow one."

"How did you get so many coats?" said Hermione. Harry said nothing, and when they finished breakfast, they hurried upstairs to Gryffindor Tower. Neville fished out a burgundy red cloak, while Harry poked about in the side of his trunk and Ron looked over his shoulder. Suddenly, there was a whirring sound, and most of Harry's things appeared to descend into the floor. A second compartment of objects swept in from the side of the trunk that Harry had been fiddling with, and he hastily moved his hand away. The compartment was filled with random objects, including two umbrellas, a stack of paperback books, four thick coats, an old messenger bag, a bright yellow rucksack, a Stetson and several old gloves, mostly single.

"Wicked," said Ron. "I've heard of multi-compartment trunks, but not ones like this. I didn't know Croaker's Caskets made trunks like these!"

"That's because they don't," Harry replied. "I went there, but they only had the normal ones for a sensible price - all the multi-compartment trunks were something like 25,000 Galleons. I don't know what sort of idiot would buy them! Anyway, I went to this place called Mary's Treasure Chests - it's run by this woman, Mary Cattermole, she's a Muggleborn, and everything she sells is partly Muggle-inspired. Plus it's a lot cheaper, so..."

He lifted two of the coats from the trunk, then tossed one over to Ron. They went down to the Common Room, where Hermione was waiting,a frown on her face.

"You never mentioned where you got so many coats from," said Hermione. "How many did he have?"

"Four," said Ron, "and a load of other random things, a few umbrellas, some old gloves, a hat and..."

Harry stepped on Ron's foot. He wanted to keep the books quiet for the moment.

"Where did you get all that stuff?" asked Hermione.

"Honestly? Lost Property at Baker Street," said Harry. "They're really great, when things go unclaimed, they send them off to charity or auction them, but sometimes they give it to me. Some of it's electric, so I can't bring it to Hogwarts - I leave that stuff in a station locker they have for me."

"Like what?" asked a suddenly interested Hermione.

"Three Polaroids, a digital watch and a record player."

"What's a record player?" asked a confused Neville, who had just joined them, clad in his deep red cloak. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil giggled at this - the former had decided not to dress up warmly, a decision that Harry had trouble understanding. At least Hermione was sensible, he thought, as they hurried down towards Potions, with Hermione attempting to communicate the history of the phonograph.

* * *

><p>When most of the students left Hogwarts, Harry and Ron had the place almost to themselves, and spent the days lounging around, playing chess, toasting marshmallows and plotting ways in which to get Malfoy expelled. The blond Slytherin had been a constant pain in the side for Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville and it was tough to work out who he hated least out of the four of them. Often in the afternoons, the Weasleys and Harry would go outside for a snowball fight, and much of the time they had left was spent exploring the castle. The magical artefacts research lay forgotten, although Harry would occasionally flick through a book he'd got from the library about healing in conjunction with defensive magic. It did not contain anything about healing artefacts, but Harry had discovered a small interest in Defense, when it wasn't taught by Quirrell.<p>

Harry had ordered his Christmas gifts by Owl Order, revelling in his newfound wealth. He'd got Neville a book on rare magical plants in the Amazon, while Ron had been given an extra large batch of Chocolate Frogs, along with a good luck note. Hermione had been easy to cater for - he'd fished out A Brief History of Time from his pile of books. He'd never done Christmas before, the Dursleys never having included him, but on catching Ron with a catalogue, he'd decided to order something for his friends. On Christmas morning, however, Harry awoke to find a quite impressive number of gifts, and after waking Ron, they dived into their respective piles. Harry's first one contained a small wooden recorder, roughly cut, from Hagrid. Harry was pretty sure that Hagrid had made it himself, and looked it over once before blowing it to hear a hooting noise.

"I think I know what these are - Mum must have made you a Weasley jumper," said Ron. Harry picked up the lumpy package Ron had indicated, and sure enough, enclosed within was a dark green jumper with the letter H on the front, and a box of fudge. He tried some, and then gave a piece to Ron, before picking up the next package, which was a book from the Gryffindor Quidditch team entitled 'How Not to End Up in Life or Death Situations', accompanied by a note from Alicia.

**Dear Harry,**

**As during your first term at Hogwarts, you have nearly died in my presence twice, you might want to give this one a read. Oliver says he doesn't want any more accidents, and we'll all be quite sad if you died and we were left without a Seeker. Seriously, though, we've all become quite fond of you. Next time you want to go risking your life, tell us.**

**Alicia**

Harry put the book on his windowsill and opened his next present, from Hermione, which was a box of Chocolate Frogs and a copy of The Sword in the Stone, with a note telling him to "read it all before I come back, because you don't know what you're missing out on". He opened up a Chocolate Frog, decapitated the frog before it could escape and propped up the Alberta Toothill Card. Thirty seconds later, he was the proud master of the Blasting Curse, Confringo, and the pile of wrapping paper at the end of his bed was no more.

After Neville's gift of Streamlined Stationery, various pieces of parchment, quills, ink blotters and similar items charmed to fly when assembled correctly and Ron's gift of Every Flavour Beans, there were only two gifts left, neither of them labelled. Harry picked up the first one and opened it. Inside was a small handwritten notebook titled "The Art of Pranking: Downfalls and Disasters of the Marauders". There were a number of handwritten notes inside.

"Did Fred and George send this?" Harry asked Ron, who picked up the book and looked it over.

"Nah, not their handwriting. Wonder who it was, though..."

Harry picked up the last one. It had very little structure to it, and when he undid the wrapping paper, something of a light and translucent material poured out and lay in a small lump on the floor. Ron picked it up and looked at it in awe.

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked. Harry took it - it seemed to be a kind of cloak.

"Put it on," said Ron eagerly. Harry wrapped it around himself, and Ron gasped.

"Wow - that's an Invisibility Cloak! I've heard about them, they're supposed to be really rare and really valuable. Who sent it?"

Harry picked it up. Unlike the last parcel, there was a note attached, but it gave remarkably little information.

**Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you.**

**Use it well.**

"It's not signed," said Harry. "But it used to belong to my father. Maybe it was the same person who gave me the pranking journal. Hey, maybe that belonged to my dad as well!"

"Harry, mate, stop it," said Ron. "It's unnerving to hear your voice coming from nowhere."

Harry took off the cloak, folded it up and put it into his trunk, picking up the journal. Suddenly he heard footsteps on the stairs, and he dropped the journal. He didn't feel like sharing either of the gifts just yet.

* * *

><p>The Great Hall on Christmas Day was a remarkable landscape, littered with different kinds of foods. Turkey, stuffing, gravy boats, potatoes. Crackers lined the tables, and here and there were wreaths of holly, as beautiful as the rest. Ron pulled a cracker with Harry, and they shared out several live white mice, a small model of a dragon (Ron claimed this was a Ukrainian Ironbelly), a pack of luminous balloons, a mini pack of Exploding Snap and a set of wizard chessmen.<p>

After lunch, and feeling substantially fuller, Harry and the Weasleys went outside and had a massive snowball fight, which started off quite organised but then turned into "everyone gang up on Fred", and the Weasley twin was thus buried up to his knees in snow (most of which came from George). They then went back inside, had a similarly filling dinner, then went to bed.

It was after Ron had gone to sleep, his snores filling the room, that Harry reached out for his trunk, inside which the invisibility cloak lay. Ordinarily, he would have woken Ron up, but this time, he wanted to use it alone.

It had been his father's, after all.

Slipping the material over his head, he took several steps across the room, and promptly fell over. It was lucky Ron was such a heavy sleeper. Getting up, he managed to make his way down to the common room without another accident.

This would obviously take some practice.

Twenty minutes later, he'd got the hang of walking under the cloak. It was surprisingly easy once you knew how to do it. Opening up the portrait hole, he ignored the Fat Lady's exclamations of "Who's there?", and set off down the corridor. He had no particular aim in mind to begin with, but then it came to him.

The library.

He could go and look in the Restricted Section - perhaps what they were looking for was in there!

The Restricted Section of the Library was cordoned off from the rest of the Library by a red rope. Students were not allowed to use the Restricted Section of the Library without a permission slip from a teacher. Such a permission slip was only given to students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Ancient Runes or Arithmancy. The Restricted Section was also rumoured to have the last surviving map with the location of the Isle of Drear - having been made Unplottable, the Isle of Drear could no longer be plotted on a map, but magically warded maps made before the Unplottability Charm was cast would still retain the location.

It was also the perfect place to find books on hidden artefacts, thought Harry, as he hurried down corridor after corridor. He could search for healing objects to his heart's content, without Madam Pince to stop him. Arriving in the library, he lifted up the rope and slipped inside the forbidden area.

He strode straight to the Hs and started moving past the books on Hair Potions, Hand Curses, Hat Strangulation. Seeing a large forbidding volume, he lifted it off the shelf and opened it.

A ghostly howling emitted from the book, and he dropped it.

Desperately pulling the cloak over his head, he stuffed the book onto the shelf and ran for it, straight under the outstretched arms of Filch, down corridor after corridor until he reached the Gryffindor common room, panting the password out at an obviously irritated Fat Lady, who nevertheless swung forward to let him in.

* * *

><p>AN: No Mirror of Erised here, I'm afraid. That will have to wait until later, and may not happen at all.

A reader was wondering exactly where Harry learnt to read. As well as from discarded newspapers, he is friends with a number of the LUL staff, including most of the people at Aldwych (his favourite station), a couple of drivers (mostly those running the shuttle services) and the Lost Property Staff, who were the ones behind most of his material possessions and his pre-Hogwarts education. As of 2013, 35000 items of clothing had been found over the years on the London Underground, 51000 books and papers, 35000 bags, 12000 umbrellas etc. If you want a visual aid, please head to my profile, where I have put a link to a TimeOut article with some pretty impressive pictures.

I did promise to be careful about common fanfiction clichés. He did need a trunk with extra space, mainly because he struggles to fit everything into his trunk in canon, plus he now has a load of other stuff. but seriously, the G25000 costs with the ridiculous monetary assets from standard fanfiction? Sheesh. I may take some clichés, but I will always warn you. And that's a promise.

Also, last week, no reviews there were. Depressing, that is. Click the big button at the bottom, you must. This chapter and the last one, you must review.


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